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PR  4057 
.B2  D3 
1829 
Copy  1 


)AMON  AND  PYTHIAS,  >^ 


A  PLAY, 

IN    FIVE    ACTS. 


BY    RICHARD    SHIEL,    ESQ. 

AUTHOR  OF  "  THE  APOSTATE,"  &o. 


AS  PUttFORMEU  AT  THE 

CHESTNUT-STREET    THEATRE, 

I'HILADELPHTA. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 

SAL  &  MACKENZIE,  No.  201  CHESTNUt-STREK T. 
Mifflin  &  Parry,  Printers. 

1829. 


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DRAMATIS  PERSONS 


Damon, 
Pythias, 

Dionysius, 

Damocles, 

Philistius, 

Procles, 

Lucullus, 


Philadelphia, 
Mr.  Cooper. 
Mr.  Duff. 
Mr.  Greene. 
Mr.  Darley. 
Mr.  Wheatley 
Mr.  Hathwell 
Mr.  Porter. 

Mr.  BiGNAlL. 

Master  Burke. 


Damon's  child, 0->sv«.*^  ^yivo^Ol 


Senators,  Guards,  Servants,  &c. 

Calanthe,    '  D^'p'  -r'tui     .     Mrs.  Duff. 
Hermion,      ^ITyJi)  ^yv-iVn^   •     Mrs.  Anderson. 
Arria,         .    />>^^^j  U  ^^^;^   A^Mrs.  Jefferson, 

Scene — Syracwsk- 


6h     49- 


DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS. 

/^5:>  ACT  I. 

0CEITX  I. — A  Street  iv^  Syracuao. 

DioxYsius  and  Pkocles  discovered^  a»  expecting  ti- 
dings. 

Dion.  Ere  this  the  senate  should  have  closed  its 
councils, 
And  chosen  the  new  year's  president.     I  pant 
To  know  their  meeting^s  issue. 

Proc.  Good  my  lord,  » 

There's  but  light  doubt  a  great  majority 
Of  easy  purchased  voices  will  be  found 
For  your  fast  friend,  Philistius. 

Dion.  On  his  choice 
Hangs  the  long  chain  of  complicated  purpose 
Has  ta'en  such  time  in  linking.  Plague  upon 
The  law,  that  from  the  senate-house  excludes 
All  soldiers,  like  ourselves,  or  we  should  soon 
Outvote  all  difficulty  !  (Senators  cross  the  Stag'e.)  Ha! 

methinks 
The  assembly  hath  dissolved. 
By  Jupiter, 

Philistius'  self  doth  hasten  to  us  here. 
And  with  him  Damocles  !  How  now,  my  friend  ? 

Enter  PuiLisntrs  art  J  Damocx.es. 

Art  thou  the  president  ? 

Phil.  I  am,  my  lord. 
Chosen  by  a  large  majority  to  take 
The  honourable  office  :  in  the  which 
I  may,  at  least,  requite  the  benefits 


yIhias. 


4.     ^  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  I 

Which  you  have  heaped  upon  me. 

Dam.  Yes,  my  lord, 
We  have  at  last  attain'd  the  'vantage  ground. 
Whence  your  broad  view  may  take  a  boundless  pros- 
pect. 

Dion.  'Tis  a  bold  step  upon  the  mountain-path, 
Wherein  I  have  long  been  toiling.     I  no  longer 
Doubt  of  the  senate's  inclination. 
What  say  the  soldiers  ?  Thou  hast  hinted  to  them 
That  we  confided  to  thee  ? 

/Proc.  Yes,  my  lord ; 
And  they  are  ready  for  it. 

Dion,  Go  thou  hence, 
And  speak  to  them  again  ;  disperse  more  gold; 
*Twill  give  a  relish  to  thine  eloquence  5 
And,  hark  ye,  lead  th em  this  w ay^j^j^jhalLh ere 
Await  thy  comi n^^^/  H a !  ^eKoIHTm  air,  "^ 

rW  h  ere  a  m  ajeince  agl  e  floats  above 
'The  northern  turrets  of  the  citadel ;  ^ 

And,  as  the  sun  breaks  through  yon  rifted  cloud 
His  plumage  shines,  embath'd  in  burning  gold 
And  sets  off  his  regality  in  heaven. 
Thou  knowest  how  readily  the  multitude 
Are  won  by  sucl>  bright  augury-:;::jaake-Jis , 
-X^^^vii^ationjj^haitetheeT  {Exit  Proclea 

Philistius,  give  me  your  hand.     I  thank  you  : 
Things  look  in  smiles  upon  me.     It  was  otherwise 
But  a  year  since,  when  I  impeach'd  the  magistrates 
For  treasonable  dealing  with  the  foe. 
And  the  senate  hurl'd  me  from  my  topmost  height 
Of  popularity. 

Dam.  Degraded  you 
From  power,  and  office. 

Dion.  Ay  !  at  the  appeal 
Of  that  stale  pedant,  the  Pythagorean, 
Who  hangs  out  his  austerity  for  sale. 
In  frowns,  clos'd  hps,  and  pithy  sentences. 

Dam.  Thou  speakest  of  Damon? 

Dion.  Ay,  mine  enem}'^. 
The  patriot,  and  philosophic  knave, 
Who  hath  been  busy  with  my  purposes, — 


Act  1]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  i 

And  one  day  sliall  not  smile  at  it.     He  came 

Into  tlie  senate-house,  with  a  fierce  crew 

Of  his  associates  in  philosophy. 

Silent  and  frowning-,  at  his  back;  he  rail'd 

And  had  his  trivimpi). — Tinges  have  alter'd  since; 

And  to  the  mould  and  fashion  of  my  will, 

Shall  yet  take  stranger  sliape,  when,  Damocles, 

These  long-trained  lawgivers,  these  austere  sages, 

Shall  find  I  can  remember. 

Dam.  Let  them  feel  it. 

Dion.  In  all  that  biting  bitterness  of  heart 
Which  clings,  and  gnaws,  by  inches,  to  its  object, 
More  keen,  because  a  first  essay  hath  fail'd. 
In  shame  and  suffering,  failed,  thus  have  I  sped    • 
My  work,  in  silence,  on.     It  did  become 
A  thought  inwoven  with  my  inmost  being. 

Dam.  The  steps 
Which  since  most  visible  you  have  ascended, 
Must  have  requir'd  much  effort? 

Dion.  Yes  !  to  have  flung 
Into  the-siwde  of  public  disrepute 
The  very  men  whose  voices  were  most  loud 
In  working  out  my  ruin  ; — after  that. 
To  gain  the  army's  suffrage  ; — to  be  chosen 
Its  head  and  general,  that  was  another; 
To  have  won  that  very  senate 

Phil.  Yet  pause,  my  lord, — 
Howe'er  complying  you  have  hitherto 
Found  that  assembly,  and  though  most  of  them 
Are  plung'd  into  your  debt,  beyond  all  means 
Of  their  redenjption,  yet  may  there  be  still 
Some  sudden  reluctation  to  the  last 
And  mightiest  of  all  hopes. 

Dion.  The  garrison 
Is  not  a  bad  ally  methinks  ? 

Phil.  The  war 
J^ath  ta'en  the  flower  of  all  the  troops  from  Syracuse, 
And  Damon  heading  the  vile  populace 

Dion.  I  came  from  Agrigentum,  to  entreat 
Arms,  corn,  and  money,  from  the  senators, 
While  I  myself  have  purposely  delay'd 


6  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  1 

The  granting  them;  meantime,  the  city  is  filled 
With  many  thousands  of  my  followers. 

Phil.  But,  are  they  not  unweapon'd? 

Dion,  This  city  of  Syracuse — 
It  hath  a  citadel  ? 

Fhil.  True,  sir,— it  hath. 

Dion.  And  therein,  as  I  deem,  its  national  stock 
Of  corn,  and  arms,  and  gold,  is  treasur'd  ? 

Phil.   True. 

BiQ7i.  The  citadel  is  not  impregnable; 
And  when  it  is  mann'd,  and  order'd  to  my  will, 
What  of  these  frothy  speech-makers  ? 

{A  shout  is  .heard  abroad. 

.  Phil.  My  lord. 
The  soldiers  shout  for  you. 

Bwn.  Procles,  I  see. 
Is  at  his  work.— Good  .  amocles,  Philistius, 
As  you  are  senators,  retire  ye  hence  ; 
It  were  not  meet  that  you  should  look  to  have  been 
Parties  to  any  act,  which  afterwards 
May  grow  into  discussion. — And,  Philistius, 
One  effort  more  among  our  city  friends  ; 
I  will  forewarn  thee  of  the  time  to  call 
The  senators  together — Yet,  I  mean  not 
Exclusively  to  trust  them,  good  Philistius  ; — 
Sure  means  sure  ends. — 1*11  have  a  friend  or  two 
Within  my  call,  to  help  them. — If  their  councils 
Become  too  knotty  for  unravelling, 
A  sharp  sword  may  be  useful. — Fare  you  well. 

[Exeujit  Philistius  and  Damocles. 
Voices  (  Without.)  Ay,  to  the  citadel — The  citadel. 

Enter  Procles  and  Soldiers. 

Dion.  Who  talks  of  moving  to  the  citadel  ? 

1st  Soldier.  It  is  himself, — huzza ! 

All.  Huzza  !  our  general ! 

Dion.  Good  friends,  I  thank  ye.     Procles,  art  thou 
here  ? 
Hast  thou  distributed  to  these  much-wrong'd  men. 
The  trifling  bounty  which  I  charg'd  thee  with  .? 

Proc.  They  have  it,  noble  general. 


Actl]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS. 

Dion.  My  friends, 
'Twas  a  poor  offering  and  beneath  your  taking  \ 
But,  as  yourself  do  know,  my  private  purse 
Is  light  as  that  of  any  other  veteran. 
Within  the  walls  of  Syracuse.     Speak,  Procles, 
Who  talks  of  moving  on  the  citadel  ? 
AIL  We,  Dionysius,  we. 
Froc.  Yes,  these  brave  spirits. 
Indignant  at  the  senate's  heedlesspesa 
Of  you,  and  them,  and  of  the  general  honour- 
1st  Soldier.  Ay,   we  will  spurn  their  yol 
have  no  master 
But  our  most  noble  general  Dionysius  ! 
Dion.  Give  me  not  cause,  my  friends,  to  deem  my- 
self 
Dishonour'd  and  endanger'd  in  your  love  ; 
For,  as  I  am  a  soldier  and  a  man. 
Could  I  believe  that  any  other  thought 
Engag'd  you  to  possess  the  citadel. 
Save  your  anxiety  for  the  soldier's  weal, 
And  the  state's  safety,- 1  would  raise  my  hand. 
In  supplication  'gainst  your  enterprize  ; — 
But,  as  the  time  now  urges,  and  cries  out 
For  sudden  muster,  and  organization 
Of  the  brave  thousands,  who  but  wait  for  swords. 
To  join  your  ranks,  and  rush  with  you  to  glory, - 
And  yet  the  senate, — 

Proc.  Speak  not  of  the  senate  : 
We  do  renounce  its  service  and  despise  it, 

Dion.  It  was  my  thought  to  say,  if  they  object, 
We  may  submit  it,  as  a  needful  step, 
Claiming  allowance  in  the  exigency 
Of  the  occasion. 

Proc.  They  shall  not  control  it. 
We  seek  not  for  their  judgment  of  our  act. 
All.  On,  general,  on  ! 
Dion.  When  did  ye  call, 
That  I  replied  not  with  my  word  and  deed, 
My  heart  and  hand  ?  Even  as  you  say  it,  on, 
On,  fellow-soldiers,  to  the  citadel  ! 
And  let  vour  swords  be  out,  more  in  the  show 


8  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  I 

Of  what  ye  are,  soldiers  and  fighting'-men, 
Than  with  a  harmful  purpose.     Let  us  on  ! 
Ad.  On  to  the  citadel !  the  citadel  ! 
[Exeunt,  toith  cries,  imil  brandishing  their  swords. 

Scene  II. — Another  Street. 

Enter  Damox. 

Damon.  Philistius,  then,  is  president  at  last, 
And  Dionysius  has  o'ersway'd  it  ?     Well,^ 

j|«H|bliat  I  expected:  'i'here  is  now 

IHSProlic  virtue  left  in  Syracuse. 
Wnat  should  be  hop'd  from  a  degenerate, 
Corrupted,  and  voluptuous  populace, 
When  highly-born  and  meanly-minded  nobles 
Would  barter  freedom  for  a  great  man's  feast, 
And  sell  their  country  for  a  smile  ?  The 'stream, 
With  a  more  sure  eternal  tendency 
Seeks  not  the  ocean,  than  a  sensual  race 
Their  own  devouring  slavery.    I  am  sick, 
At  my  inmost  heart,  of  every  thing  I  see 
And  hear  !  Oh  Syracuse,  I  am,  at  last, 
Forc'd  to  despair  of  thee  !  And  yet  thou  art 
My  land  of  birth, — thou  art  my  country  still ; 
And  like  an  unkind  mother,  thou  hast  left 
The  claims  of  holiest  nature  in  my  heart, 
And  I  must  sorrow  for,  not  hate  thee  ?  (Shouts)  Ha  ! 
What  shouts  are  these  ?  *Tis  from  the  citadel 
The  uproar  is  descending.  - 

E7iter  LxjcuLLus.  \ 

Speak,  LucuUus, 
What  has  befallen  ? 

JjUc.  Have  you  heard  the  news  ? 

JJamon.  What  news  ? 

Luc.  As  through  the  streets  I  pass'd,  the  people 
Said  ihat  the  citadel  was  in  the  hands 
Of  Dionysius. 

Damon.  The  citadel 
In  Dionysius'  hands  r  What  dost  thou  tell  me  ;• 
How,  — whcref()rc, — when?  In  Dionvshis'  h.ands  f 


Act  1]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  9 

The  traitor  Dionysius  ? — Speak,  Lucullus, 
And  quickly. 

Luc,  It  was  said,  that  by  rude  force. 
Heading  a  troop  of  soldiers,  he  has  ta*en 
Possession  of  the  citadel,  and  seiz'd 
The  arms  and  treasure  in*t.  [Exit 

Damon.  I  am  thunder  stricken  ! 
The  citadel  assaulted,  and  the  armory 
In  that  fierce  soldier's  power  !  (Shouts)  Again  !    By 

all 
The  gods  on  high  Olympus,  1  behold 
His  standard  waving  o'er  it, — and  they  come. 
His  most  notorious  satellites,  high  heaped 
With  arms  and  plunder  !  Parricidal  slaves. 
What  have  ye  done  ? 

Enter  Pb.oci.es  and  Soldiers. 

Soldiers.  For  Dionysius  !  Ho  ! 
For  Dionysius  ! 

Damon.  Silence !  obstreperous  traitors !    • 
Your  throats  offend  the  quiet  of  the  city  ; 
And  thou,  who  standest  foremost  of  these  knaves, 
Stand  back,  and  answer  me, — a  senator. 
What  have  you  done  ? 

Proc.  But  that  1  know  'twill  gall  thee. 
Thou  poor  and  talking  pedant  of  the  school 
Of  dull  Pythagoras,  I'd  let  thee  make 
Conjecture  from  thy  senses  :  But,  in  hope 
*Twill  stir  your  solemn  anger,  learn  from  me, 
We  have  taken  possession  of  the  citadel, 
And 

Damon.  Patience,  ye  good  gods!  a  moment's  pa- 
tience. 
That  these  too  ready  hands  may  not  enforce 
The  desperate  precept  of  my  rising  heart — 
Thou  most  contemptible  and  meanest  tool 
That  ever  tyrant  used! 

Froc.  Do  you  hear  him,  soldiers  ? 
First,  for  thy  covyard  railings  at  myself, 
And  since  thou  liast  called  our  Dionysius  tvrant, 
Here,  in  the  open  streets  of  Syracuse, 


10  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  {Act  I 

I  brand  thee  for  a  liar,  and  a  traitor ! 

Damon.  Audacious  slave  ! 

Proc.  Upon  him,  soldiers, — 
Hew  him  to  pieces  ! 

Soldiers.  On  him  ! 

Enter  Pythias,  as  they  rush  upon  Damon, 

Pyth.  Back,  on  your  lives  ! 
Cowards,  damn'*d  treacherous  cowards,  back  I  say  ! 
Do  you  know  me  ?  Look  upon  me  :  Do  you  know 
This  honest  sword  I  brandish  ?  You  have  seen  it 
Among  the  ranks  of  Carthage  ;  would  you  now 
Taste  its  shrewd  coldness  in  your  quaking  selves ! 
Back  !  back !  I  say.  He  hath  his  amour  on — 
I  am  his  sword,  shield,  helm  ;  I  but  enclose 
Myself,  and  my  own  heart,  and  heart's  blood,  when 
I  thus  stand  before  him. 

Damon.  False  hearted  cravens  ! 
We  are  but  two — my  Pythias,  my  halved  heart! — 
My  Pythias,  and  myself;  but  dare  come  on. 
Ye  hirelings  of  a  tyrant !  dare  advance 
A  foot,  or  raise  an  arm,  or  bend  a  brow. 
And  ye  shall  learn  what  two  such  arms  can  do 
Amongst  a  thousand  of  ye. — My  good  friend. 
The  gods  have  sent  thee  to  me — Who  had  deem'd 
To  find  thee  here  from  Agrigentum  ? 

[Soldiers  advance. 

Pyth.  Off! 
Off,  villains,  off ! — Each  for  the  other  thus. 
And  in  that  other,  for  his  dearer  self. 
Why,  Procles,  art  thou  not  asham'd— for  I 
Have  seen  thee  do  good  work  in  battle  time — 
Art  not  asham'd,  here  on  a  single  man 
To  rush  in  coward  numbers  ^  Fie  upon  thee  ! 
I  took  thee  for  a  soldier. 

Proc.  For  thy  sake, 
Who  art  a  warrior  like  ourselves,  we  spare  him — 
'Twas  a  good  star  of  his  that  led  thee  hither 
From  Agrigentum,  to  lift  up  thine  arm 
in  the  defence  of  that  long  robe  of  peace 
Wherein  he  wraps  his  stern  philosophy, 


Actl]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  11 

Come,  teach  him  better  manners.     Soldiers,  on,~ 
Let  us  to  Dionysius.      [Exeunt  Proclea  and  Soldiers, 

Pyth.  Art  thou  safe 
From  these  infuriate  stabbers  ? 

Damon.  Thanks  to  thee, 
I  am  safe,  my  gallant  soldier,  and  fast  friend : 
My  better  genius  sent  thee  to  my  side. 
When  I  did  think  thee  far  from  Syracuse. 

Pyth.  I  have  won  leave  to  spend  some  interval 
From  the  fierce  war,  and  come  to  Syracuse, 
With  purpose  to  espouse  the  fair  Calanthe. — 
The  gods  have  led  me  hither,  since  I  come 
In  time  to  rescue  thee. 
How  grew  this  rude  broil  up  ? 

Damon.  Things  go  on  here 
Most  execrably,  Pythias.    Bnt  you  are  come 
To  be  a  husband,  are  you  not .? 

Pyth.  To-morrow 
I  call  my  soft  Calanthe  wife, 

Damon.  Then,  Pythias, 
I  will  not  shade  the  prospect  of  your  joys 
With  any  griefs  of  mine.     I  cry  you  mercy — 
These  are  experiments  too  over  nice 
For  one  that  has  a  mistress,  and  would  wed  her 
With  an  uncut  throat.     I  have  wish*d  myself, 
That  to  the  blest  retreats  of  private  life 
My  lot  had  been  awarded  ; — every  hour 
Makes  one  more  sick  and  weary  with  the  sense 
Of  this  same  hopeless  service  of  a  state, 
Where  there  is  not  of  virtue  left 
To  feed  the  flarings  of  our  liberty. 
But,  my  soldier, 

I  will  not  make  thee  a  participant 
In  my  most  sad  forebodings.     Pythias, 
1  say  'twere  better  be  the  Persian's  slave, 
And  let  him  tread  upon  thee,  when  he  would 
Ascend  his  horse's  back,  than— yet,  not  so, 
I  am  too  much  gall'd  and  fretted  to  pronounce 
A  sober  judgment,  and  the  very  mask 
Of  freedom  is  yet  better  than  the  bold, 
Uncover'd  front  of  tyranny. — Farewell ! 


13  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  I 

Pyth,  Nay,  I  must  follow  thee,  and  find  the  cause 
That  so  perturbs  thy  spirit. 

Damon.  How,  sir!  you  have 
A  mistress  here  in  Syracuse,  and,  look, 
Herself  comes  forth  to  meet  you. 

Pyth.  Where!  Calanthe ! 
Nay,  1  behold  her  not — you  mock  me  Damon. 

Damon.     {Pointing  to  a  different  side  of  the  ttage.) 
Look  this  way,  sir. 

Pyth.  It  is  herself,  indeed. 
My  own,  my  fond,  betrothed  one. 

Eiiter  Calanthe. 

Cal.  My  dear. 
But  most  neglecting  Pythias  ! 

Pyth.  By  the  birth 
Of  Venus,  when  she  rose  out  of  the  sea, 
And  with  her  life  did  fill  the  Grecian  isles 
With  everlasting  verdure,  she  was  not. 
Fresh  from  the  soft  creation  of  the  wave, 
More  beautiful  than  thee  ! 

Cal.  Thou  fondly  thinkest 
To  hide  thy  false  oblivion  of  the  maid. 
That  with  a  panting  heart  awaited  thee. 
Now,  Pythias,  I  do  take  it  most  unkind. 
That  thou  to  friendship  hast  made  sacrifice 
Of  the  first  moment  of  thy  coming  here. 

Pyth.  Nay,  chide  me  not ;  for  I  was  speeding  to 
thee. 

Cal.  Soon  as  I  heard  thou  wert  in  Syracuse^ 
I  ran  at  once  to  hail  thee  with  a  smile. 
Although  my  mother  would  have  staid  me. 

{Pythias  kisses  her  hand.) 

Damon.  (  fVho  is  lost  in  thought.) 
Yes, 
They  must  at  least  be  safe. 

Pyth.  And  how,  Calanthe^        > 
Fares  thy  dear  mother  ? 

Cal.  Happy  in  the  thought 
If  she  must  needs  (as  she  must)  part  with  me, 
It  is  at  least  to  thee. 


Act  I]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  13 

Pyth.  And  my  poor  father  ? 

Cal.  Time  has  almost  shut  up  his  faculties, 
And  he  can  scarce  distinguish  any  voice 
That  is  address'd  to  him.     The  day  is  pass'd 
Upon  his  couch  ;  at  evening,  in  a  chair. 
He  is  carried  to  the  terrace-walk  before 
The  threshold  of  his  mansion,  where  the  wind, 
Fresh  from  the  sea,  plays  with  his  locks  of  gray, 
Till  pleas'd  at  last  he  smiles.     That  gentle  smile. 
As  'tis  the  first  denotement  of  a  thought 
In  speechless  infanc3\  'tis  the  last  sign 
Of  the  expiring  mind. 

Pyth.  My  soft  Calantlie 
Must  be  a  tender  on  infirmity. 
Before  her  time.    But  where's  my  silent  friend  ^ 
Why,  Damon,  what's  the  matter  ? 

Damon.  {Aside,  a?id  siili losi  in  thought.) 
One  brave  blov.^ 

And  it  were  done  !  By  all  the  goJs,  one  blow. 
And  Syracuse  were  free  ! — Pythias,  is't  you  ? — 
I  cry  you  mercy,  {to  Cal.)  fair  one — Pythias, 
You  are  to  be  married.     Haste  thee,  Pythias, — 
Love,  and  fight  on.     Thine  arms  to  Mars,  thy  heart 
Give  to  his  paramour. — Take  thou  no  care 
Of  the  politician's  study — 'twill  turn  pale 
Thy  cheek,  make  thee  grow  sick  at  nature's  love- 
liness, 
And  see  in  her  pure  beauty  but  one  blank 
Of  dismal,  coloui'less,  sterility. 
Calanthe,  look  to  it — let  him  not  play 
The  statesman's  sorry  part. 

Pyth.  Damon,  you  let 
The  commonwealth  o'erfret  you.     I  was  about 
To  pray  you  to  cur  wedding. 

Damon.  I  intended, 
Unbidden,  to  be  there. 

Pyth.  From  friendsliip's  eyes 
I'll  win  addition  to  my  happiness. 
Calanthe,  come — I  should  be  half  in  fear, 
To  seem  thus  loving  of  thee,  in  the  sight 
Of  this  philosopher. 

B 


14  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  I 

Cal.  Nay,  he  pretends 
To  be  by  half  more  rugged,  and  more  wise. 
Than  he  hath  any  right  to  :  I  have  seen  him, 
(Have  I  not,  Damon  ?)  looking  at  his  wife, 
When  he  imagin'd  none  was  there  to  mark 
The  proud  Pythagorean,  with  an  eye 
Filled  with  tenderness : — and  his  young  boy  too. 
That  seems  Aurora's  child,  with  liis  fine  face, 
Stirr'd  his  stern  visage  to  complacency. 
Come,  come,  we  will  be  revenged  upon  you  both  : 
I  swear,  his  wife  and  I  will  be  accounted 
Your  rivals  in  the  godlike  quality 
Your  lordly  sex  would  arrogate  its  own 
Peculiar  privilege,  and  show  the  world 
The  unseen,  and  yet  unrumour'd  prodigy, — 
The  friendship  of  a  woman, 

lExeu7it  Pythias  and  Calanthe, 

Enter  Lucullus. 

Damon.  Hark  thee,  Lucullus — 
My  wife  and  child  must  instantly  depart 
From  Syracuse  ; — you  must  attend  them  hence. 
Unto  my  villa,  on  the  mountain  side. 

Xmc.  Alas,  my  lord ! 

Damon.  Why  dost  thou  droop  ? 

Luc.  My  lord, 
I  was  your  slave  ;  you  gave  me  liberty; 
And  when  I  see  you  peril'd — 

Damon.  Nay,  Lucullus, 
Where  is  the  warrant  for  thy  fear  ? 

Luc.  I  read 
You  are  engag'd  in  some  dread  enterprise, 
Filse  you  would  not  deny  them  to  your  sight : 
You  fear  the  leaning  ruin  may  fall  down 
Upon  their  dearer  heads. 

Damon.  I  charge  you,  sir. 
No  prying  in  my  purposes. — Take  care 
You  speak  not  to  my  wife  of  any  thing 
May  stir  her  apprehensions— see,  she  comes — - 
Beware  thy  looks  betray  thee. 


Act  I]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  15 


Enter  Hermiow. 

ffevm.  Art  thou  safe, 
Damon,  art  safe  ? 

Damon-  You  are  not  a  widow  yet. 
Herm.  For  shame  to  talk  of  such  a  thing.     I  have 
heard 
Of  thy  rude  quarrelling  with  that  same  fierce, 
And  overbearing  soldier.     But  thou  art  safe. — 
Proud  men  !  how  reckless  of  the  faithful  hearts 
That  doat  on  you, — that  hang  their  weakness  on  ye! 
How  reckless  of  us  in  your  bustling  hours 
Of  occupation  and  despatch,  ye  are  ! 
Ah,  then  you  think  not  of  the  pining  mate. 
Left  in  her  solitude,  with  nought  to  do. 
But  weep  for  your  return,  and  chide  the  gods, 
That  make  your  n>inds  so  stern  and  enterprising. 

Bci0)n^   y(iri»ion,J,th*nk^  t]ie  city^  fulsome  air 
Likes  not  our  boy  :— The  colour  in*Hi9*chfeek 
Hath  Ipst  its  rich  and  healthful  purity. 

Herm.  Nay,  you  are  wrong  there; — 'tis  like  a  young 
peach. 
Or  yet  more  fresh  and  blooming. 

JDamoji.  Hermion, 
I  have  resolv'd  that  you  and  he  shall  go 
Unto  my  villa,  near  to  Syracuse. 
Herm.  But  you  will  come  with  us  ? 
Damon.  Hermion,  you  know 
My  occupation  forbids  that  wish. 
Luc.  My  lord — 

Damon.  Forbear  sir — yet  I  cannot  go, — ■ 
I  mean,  I  cannot  go  immediately — 
The  state  affairs  luy  hold  upon  me.     You 
Must  hence  before  me  thither. 
Herm.  Damon — 
Damon.  Come, 
Look  not  thus  sadly. 

Herm.  I  have  learn'd  too  well 
The  usage  of  obedience,  to  inquire 
Into  your  purposes. 


J6  DAMON  AND  1*YTHIAS.  [Act  I 

Damon.  Hermion,  I'll  take 
Occasion  oft  to  visit  you — to  morrow — 
If  possible,  to  morrow. 

fferm.  Will  you  so? 
Nay,  will  you  truly  promise  it  ? 

JDamon.  I  do. — 
Hermion,  you  must  be  sudden — you  must  despatch.— 
Come — -but  I'll  see  my  boy  before  you  go. — 
Hermion,  he  is  our  only  one. — That  child 
Is  made  of  thy  own  heart,  and  mine — I  charge  thee. 
Have  thou  a  care,  in  all  vicissitudes 
Of  private  or  of  public  incident. 
To  form  in  him,  what  will  out-top  the  height 
Of  the  best  laurel-tree  in  all  the  groves 
Of  the  Academy,-— an  honest  man.  {^Exeunt. 

S*CEifE  I. — A   Chamber  in  Arria''s  House, 
Enter  Pythias  and  Calanthe. 

Pyth.  So,  my  Calanthe,  you  would  waste  the  moon 
Of  Hymen  in  this  lonely  spot  ? 

Cal.  In  sooth 
I  would,  for  'tis  the  fairest  place  in  Sicily  : 
A  dell,  made  of  green  beauty;  with  its  shrubs 
Of  aromatic  sweetness,  growing  up 
The  ragged  mountain's  sides,  as  cunningly 
As  the  nice  structure  of  a  little  nest. 
Built  by  two  loving  nightingales.     The  wind. 
That  comes  there,  full  of  rudeness  from  the  sea, 
Is  luU'd  into  a  balmy  breath  of  peace, 
The  moment  that  it  enters  ;  and  'tis  said 
By  our  Sicilian  shepherds,  that  their  songs 
Have  in  this  place  a  wilder  melody. 
The  mountains  all  about  it  are  the  haunts 
Of  many  a  fine  romantic  memory  ! 


Act  11]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  It 

High  towers  old  JEtna,  with  his  feet  deep  clad 

In  the  green  sandals  of  the  freshful  spring ; 

His  sides  array'd  in  winter,  and  his  front 

Shooting  aloft  the  everlasting  flame. 

On  the  right  hand  is  that  great  cave,  in  which 

Huge  Polyphemus  dwelt,  between  whose  vast 

Colossal  limbs  the  artful  Grecian  stole. 

On  the  other  side. 

Is  Galatea's  dainty  dressing-room, 

"Wrought  in  the  living  marble  ;  and  within 

Is  seen  the  fountain  where  she  us'd  to  twine 

The  ringlets  on  her  neck  that  did  ensnare 

The  melancholy  Cyclop. — But  what  care  you, 

A  soldier,  for  such  fantasies  ?    I  know 

A  way  that  better  shall  persuade  you  to 

That  place  for  our  sweet  marriage  residence — 

There  Damon  hath  his  villa — Ha  !  you  seem 

Determin'd  by  the  fast  proximity 

Of  such  a  friendship,  more  than  all  my  love. 

Pyth.  Does  Damon  dwell  there  ? 

Cal.  No  ;  his  Hermion 
And  his  young  boy — O  !  'tis  a  beauteous  child  ' — 
Are  sent  there  from  the  city's  noxious  air, 
And  he  doth  visit  them,  whene'er  the  state 
Gives  him  brief  respite.    Tell  me,  Pythias, 
Shall  we  not  see  the  Hymeneal  moon 
Ghde  through  the  blue  heavens  there  ? 

Pyth.  My  own  ador'd  one, 
If  thou  should'stbid  me  sail  away  with  thee 
To  seek  the  isles  of  the  Hesperides, 
I  would,  with  such  a  pilots  spread  my  sail 
Beyond  the  trophies  of  great  Hercules, 
Making  thine  eyes  my  cynosure  ! 

Enter  Lucullus. 

How  now,  Lucullus  ? 

Luc,  Where  is  my  lord  ?    I  was  inform'd 
That  I  should  find  him  here— a  senator 
Bade  me  require  him  instantly. 

Pyth.  He  waits  here. 
To  attend  us  to  the  temple,  and  if  things 
B   2 


18  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  11 

Of  weight  demand  his  eur,  you'll  find  him  yonder 
In  the  pale  cypress-grove.  [  Exit  Lucullus, 

Nothing  I  hope 

Has  happen'd  to  withdraw  him  from  the  rite 
That  makes  thee  mine. 

Cal.  I  hope  not. — Who  is  this 
That  seeks  him  out  so  earnestly  ? 

Fyth.  He  is 
A  brave  Italian,  whom  the  Carthage  pirates 
Seiz'd  on  his  native  coast,  and  sold  a  slave. 
Damon  hath  given  him  back  his  liberty. 
But  yet,  of  his  free  will,  he  tends  him  still ; 
And  more  than  very  freedom  doth  he  hold. 
The  right  to  serve  a  man  that  is  fine  touch*d 
With  a  most  merciful  spirit. 

Cal.  Nay,  my  Pythias, 
Make  not  your  friend's  high  qualities  for  aye 
The  burthen  of  your  eloquence — In  sooth, 
I  should  be  almost  jealous  of  a  steed 
I  saw  you  pat  with  a  too  liberal  hand  ; 
And — ha  !  he  comes. 

Enter  Damon. 

Damon.  Pythias — {aside)  I  must  not  let 
Calanthe  read  my  purpose.     Calanthe, 
The  blessing,  and  the  bounty  of  the  gods 
Be  with  you,  over  you,  and  all  around  you, 
Thou  gentle  girl!— Pythias,  a  word  with  you. 

(aside to  Pyth.) 
What  heard  I,  think  you,  Pythias,  even  now  ? 

Cal.  There  has  been  Pythias,  all  this  forenoon, 
Would  speak  to  me  of  nothing  but  the  esteem 
In  which  he  held  thee,  Damon. 

Damon.  What !  no  word 
Touching  the  quality  of  that  foolish  love 
He  bears  the  fair  Calanthe?     (To  Pyth,  aside.)  Wq 

are  undone, 
Wc,  and  our  wretched  city,  Pythias ! 

Pyth.  (aside  to  Damon,)   What  dost  thou  mean  ? 

Cal.  No,  not  a  single  word— 
Thou,  thou  alone  mad'st  up  his  eulogy. 


Act  II]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  19 

Damon.  What  think'st  thou,  Pythias  ?  A  king  ? 

{aside.) 
Pyth.  (aside  to  Damon.)  Wliat !  who  ? 
Dam.  (to  Cal.)  Heed  not 
His  silken  praises  of  me.  (ToPyth.  aside.)  Dionysius 
Is  to  be  crowned  in  the  senate-house. 
Pyth.  Can  it  be  possible  ? 
Da7n.  I  say  thee,  yea — 
His  soldiers  line  the  streets. 
Pyth.  But  will  the  senate, 
The  coward  senate,  sanction  it !     Will  none 
Oppose  him  in  it  ? 

Dam.  Oppose  him .' — (aloud.)  all  the  gods 
So  help,  or  strike  me,  as  I  will  oppose  him  ! 
Let  Etna  vent  her  furies  on  his  side, 
And  I  alone — Ha  !  I  forgot  my  dagger. 

[Searahing-  about  him. 
Cal.  How  now,  my  Pythias  ? 
Pyth.  He  is  mov'd,  Calanthe, 
By  some  most  urgent  matter  of  the  state  ; 
Nay,  heed  him  not ! 

Damon.  Pythias,  as  I  intended 
To  be  a  witness  to  thy  wedding-rite, 
I  did  not  bear  a  weapon — give  me  thy  poniard. 
Pyth.  Speak,  to  what  end  ? 
Damon.  No  matter,  give  it  me. 
Cal.  Ha !  what  does  he  intend  ?    Now,  by  my  love, 

Pythias,  I  do  adjure  thee, 

Pyth.  Whither  Damon, 
Where  would'st  thou  go  ? 
Damon.  Unto  the  senate-house. 
Pyth.  Then  I  will  with  you,  too. 
Cal.  He  shall  not  •' 
Damon.  No  ! 
Thou  say'st  aright,— he  shall  not  1  Fair  Calanthe, 
This  is  no  hour  to  leave  thee  !  What,  Calanthe, 
Should  bridegrooms  give  the  law,  and  'gin  to  rule 
Even  on  their  wedding  day  ?    I  charge  thee,  sweet. 
Assert  thy  brief  dominion  while  thou  canst; 
'Twill  speedily  be  his  turn.  (aside  to  Pyth.) 

It  shall  not  be  !    It  is  against  the  law 


20  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  11 

For  any  soldier  in  the  senate-house 

To  lift  his  helm  of  war,  and  what  avail 

Were  thy  companionship  ?     Calanthe,  take  him. 

Take  him  away,  and  heaven  be  o'er  you  both  ! 

Pyth.  But  thou  wilt  promise  me,  upon  the  faith 
Of  an  old  friendship,  that  thy  sudden  hand 
Will  not  attempt  a  rashness  ? 

Damon.  Be  thou  satisfied, 
I  will  do  nought  in  passion.  Come,  Calanthe,  {aside.) 
Assert  thy  right  in  him,  and  bear  him  hence 
Unto  the  garden-walk,  and  tell  him  o'er 
The  names  of  all  thy  favourite  plants  ;  1  pray  thee. 
Keep  him  in  busy  trifles,  till  the  hour 
For  the  sweet  rite  be  come — That's  well,  my  girl; 
There,  take  him  by  the  arm ! 

Cal.  Come,  Pythias,  come  ! 
I  thank  thee,  Damon,  for  thy  tender  counsel. 

Pyth.  Nay,  Damon,  nay,  Calanthe — 

Cal.  Nay  me  no  nays ; 
I  say  it  shall  be  so. 

Damon.  May  the  gods  pour 
Their  blessings  o'er  your  heads ! — Farewell !   fare- 
well! 
I  have  no  time  to  bide  here,  but  my  heart 
Shall  be  beside  you  at  the  altar-place. 
Perhaps  it  is  an  idle  fear  compels  me 
Hence  from  your  sight — I  will,  if  possible. 
Return  and  see  you  wedded. — Fare  you  well ! 
Now,  Syracuse,  for  thee  ! — And  may  the  fates 
So  bless,  or  curse  me,  as  I  act  in  this  ! 

^  ;  \_Exeunt  severally. 

Scene  II. —  The  Senate  house  of  Syracuse. — Senators 
assembled. — Philistius  at  their  head — Diontsius 
stands  in  the  front  of  the  stage. — Damocles. 

1st.  Sen.  So  soon  warn'd  back  again  ! 

Dion.  So  soon,  good  fathers. 
My  last  despatches  here  set  forth,  that  scarce 
I  had  amass'd  and  form'd  our  gallant  legions. 
When,  as  by  magic,  word  of  the  precaution 


ActllJ  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  21 

Was  spirited  to  their  camp — and  on  the  word, 
These  Carthagenians  took  their  second  thought, 
And  so  fell  back. 

Fhil.  I  do  submit  to  you, 
That  out  of  this  so  happy  consequence 
Of  Dionysius*  movement  on  the  citadel, 
Not  only  is  his  pardon  for  the  act 
Freely  drawn  forth,  but  we  are  call'd  upon 
Our  thanks  most  manifestly  to  express 
For  such  a  noble  service. 

JDion.  Good  Philistius, 
I  am  a  soldier  ;  yours  and  the  state's  servant, 
And  claim  no  notice  for  my  duty  done 
Beyond  the  doing  it — and  the  best  thanks 
i  merit,  or  can  have,  lie  in  the  issue 
Which  has  most  happily  resulted. 

Dam.  Nay, 
It  rests  in  us  to  say  so. 

Fhil.  Dionysius, 
The  work  which  of  this  enterprise  thou  hast  made. 
Proves  that  oar  citadel,  and  its  resources, 
Have  been  misus'd  ;  and  never  so  controll'd 
And  order'd  for  our  good,  as  by  thyself; — 
Therefore  retain  it,  govern  and  direct  it. — 
Would  the  whole  state  were  like  the  citadel  1 
In  hot  and  angry  times  like  these  we  want 
Even  such  a  man. 

Da7n.  I,  from  my  heart,  assent  to 
And  second  this  proposal. 

Dion.  Most  reverend  fathers — 

Dam.  We  pray  thee  silence,  noble  Dionysius! 
All  here  do  know  what  your  great  modesty 
Will  urge  you  to  submit — but  I  will  raise 
This  envious  veil  wherein  you  shroud  yourself. 
It  is  the  time  to  speak  ;  our  country's  danger 
Calls  loudly  for  some  measure  at  our  hands, 
Prompt  and  decisive. 

Damon,  {ivithout.)  Thou  most  lowly  minion  \ 
I'll  have  thee  whipp'd  for  it,  and  by  the  head 
Made  less  even  than  thou  art  ! 


22  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  II 

Enter  Damon. 

Phil.  Wh®  breaks  so  rude  and  clamorously  in 
To  scare  our  grave  deliberations  ? 

Damon.  A  senator  ! — First  let  me  ask  you  why 
Upon  my  way  here  to  sit  down  with  you, 
I  have  encountered  in  the  open  streets, 
Nay,  at  the  very  threshold  of  your  doors. 
Soldiers  and  satelHtes  array'd  and  marshalPd 
With  their  swords  out  ?  Why  have  I  been  obstructed 
By  an  armed  bandit  in  my  peaceful  walk  here, 
To  take  my  ripfhtful  seat  in  the  senate-house  ? 
Why  has  a  ruffian  soldier  privilege 
To  hold  his  weapon  to  my  throat  ?    A  tainted, 
Disgrac'd,  and  abject  traitor,  Procles  ?     Who 
Dar'd  place  the  soldiers  round  the  senate-house  f 

Phil.  I  pray  you,  fathers,  let  not  this  rash  man 
Disturb  the  grave  and  full  consideration 
Of  the  important  jnatter  touching  which 
We  spoke  ere  he  rushed  in. 

Dam.  I  did  require 
To  know  from  you,  without  a  hand  or  head, 
Such  as  to  us  hath  been  our  Dionysius, 
What  now  were  our  most  likely  fate  ? 

Damon.  The  fate 
Of  freemen  in  the  full ;  free  exercise 
Of  all  the  noble  rights  that  freemen  love  ! 
Free  in  our  streets  to  walk  ;  free  in  our  councils 
To  speak  and  act — 

Phil.  I  do  entreat  you,  senators, 
Protect  me  from  this  scolding  demagogue, 
And  let  us  win  your — 

Damon.  Demagogue,  Philistius  ! 
Who  was  the  demagogue,  when  at  my  challenge 
He  was  denoune'd  and  silenc'd  by  the  senate. 
And  your  scant  oratory  spent  itself 
In  fume  and  vapour  ? 

Dam.  Silence,  Damon,  silence  ! 
And  let  the  council  use  its  privilege, 

Datnon.  Who  bids  me  silence  ?    Damocles,  the  soft 
And  pUant  willow,  Damocles  ! — Bat  come. 


Act  11]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  23 

What  do  you  dare  proplOse  >     Come,  I'll  be  silent- 
Go  on. 

JPhil.  Resolve  you  then,  is  Dionyslus 
This  head  indeed  to  us  ?  Acting  for  us— 
Yea,  governing-,  that  long  have  proved  we  cannot. 
Although  we  feign  it,  govern  for  ourselves  ? 
Da7n.  Then  who  so  fit,  in  such  extremity. 
To  be  the  single  pillar,  on  whose  strength 
.All  power  should  rest  ? 

I'hil.  Ay,  and  what  needs  the  state 
Our  crowded  and  contentious  councils  here  ? 
And  therefore,  senators,— countrymen,  rather. 
That  we  may  be  wiser,  and  better  ruFd 
Than  by  ourselves  we  are;  that  the  state's  danger 
May  be  confronted  boldly,  and  that  he 
May  have  but  his  just  meed,  1  do  submit 
That  forthwith  we  dissolve  ourselves,  and  choose 
A  king  in  Dionysius. 

jya7non.  Kingl     A  king? 
1*^  Se7i.  I  do  approve  It. 
2nd.  Ay,  and  I. 
Dam.  And  all ! 

JDainon.  And  all!  are  all  content  ? 
A  nation's  right  betray'd. 
And  all  content !  O  slaves!  O  parricides  !' 
O,  by  the  brightest  hope  a  just  man  has, 
I  blush  to  look  around  and  call  you  men  ! 
Whatl  with  your  own  free  willing  hands  yield  up 
The  ancient  fabric  ofy  our  constitution, 
To  be  a  garrison,  a  common  barrack, 
A  common  guard-house,  and  for  common  cut-throats' 
What  I  will  ye  all  combine  to  tie  a  stone 
Each  to  each  other's  necks,  and  drown  like  dogs 
Within  the  tide  of  time,  and  never  float 
To  after  ages,  or  at  best,  but  float 
A  buoyant  pestilence  ?  Can  ye  but  dig 
Your  own  dark  graves,  creep  into  them,  and  die  ! 
2rd.  Sen.  I  have  not  sanction'd  it. 
4M.   Sen.  Nor  I. 
5th.  Sen.  Nor  I. 
Damon.  O  !  thanks  for  these  few  voices !  but  alas  I 


24  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  II 

How  lonely  do  they  sound  !    Do  you  not  all 
Start  up  at  once,  and  cry  out  liberty? 
Are  you  so  bound  in  fetters  of  the  mind, 
That  there  you  sit  as  if  you  were  yourselves 

Incorporate  with  the  marble  ?     Syracusans  ! 

But,  no!  I  will  not  rail,  nor  chide,  nor  curse  ye  ! 
I  will  implore  you,  fellow-countrymen, 
With  blinded  eyes,  and  weak  and  broken  speech, 
I  will  implore  you — O  !  I  am  weak  in  words. 
But  I  cculd  bring-  such  advocates  before  you  ; — 
Your  fathers'  sacred  images;  old  men 
That  have  been  grandsires ;  women  with  their  chil- 
dren, 
Caught  up  in  fear  and  hurry,  in  their  arms — 
And  those  old  men  should  lift  their  shivering  voiceSj 
And  palsied  hands — and  those  affrighted  mothers 
Should  hold  their  innocent  infants  forth,  and  ask, 
Could  you  make  slaves  of  them? 

Fhil.  I  dissolve  the  senate 
At  its  own  vote  and  instance.    {Leaves  his  seat.) 

Darn.  And  all  hail ! 
Hail,  Dionysius,  King  of  Syracuse  ! 

Dion.  Is  this  the  vote  ? 

Damon.  There  is  no  vote  !  Philistius 
Hold  you  your  seat ;  keep  in  your  places,  senators. 

Dion.  I  ask,  is  this  the  vote? 

Phil.  It  is  the  vote, 
My  gracious  liege  and  sovereign  ! 

Damon.  I  say  nay  ! 
You  have  not  voted,  Naxillus,  or  Petus— 
Nor  you,  nor  you,  nor  you. 

JPhil.  In  my  capacity 
As  head,  and  organ  of  the  city  council, 
I  do  asseverate  it  is  the  vote ! 

{They  all  kneel  to  Dionysius  except  Damon.) 

Dion.  I  thank  you,  friends  and  countrymen,  I  thank 
ye! 

Damon.  O,  all  the  gods,  my  country,  O,  my  country! 

Dion.  And  that  we  may  have  leisure  to  put  on 
With  fitting  dignity  our  garb  of  power, 
We  do  now,  first  assuming  our  own  right. 


Act  II]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  25 

Command  from  this,  that  was  the  senate-house, 
Those  rash,  tumultuous  men,  who  still  would  tempt 
The  city's  peace  with  wild  vociferation. 
And  vain  contentious  rivalry.     Begone! 

Damon.  I  stand 
A  senator  within  the  senate-house. 

Dion.  Traitor !  and  dost  thou  dare  me  to  my  face? 

Damon.  Traitor!  to  v.'hom?  to  thee! — O  Syracuse, 
Is  this  thy  reg-ister'd  doom  ?   To  have  no  meaning 
For  the  proud  names  of  liberty  and  virtue, 
But  as  some  regal  braggart  sets  it  down 
In  his  vocabulary  ?     And  the  sense. 
The  broad,  bright  sense  that  Nature  hath  assigned 

them 
In  her  infallible  volume,  interdicted 
For  ever  from  thy  knowledge ;  or  if  seen. 
And  known,  and  put  in  use,  denounced  as  treasona- 
ble. 
And  treated  thus  ?— No,  Dionyslus,  no  ! 
I  am  no  traitor  !  But  in  mine  allegiance 
To  my  lost  country,  I  proclaim  thee  one  ! 

Dion,  My  guards  there !  Ho! 

Damon.  What  1  hast  thou  then  invoked 
Thy  satellites  already  ? 

Enter  Pbocies  aiid  Soldiera. 

Dion.  Seize  him! 
(Damon  rushes  on  DionysiuSf  arid  attempts  to  stab  him) 

Damon.  First, 
Receive  a  freeman's  legacy  ! — {He  is  intercepted  by 

Proc/<?s.)— Dionysius,-, 
Thy  genius  is  triumphant,  and  old  Syracuse 
Bows  her  to  the  dust  at  last  I-^'Tis  done  ;  'tis  o'er^ 
And  we  are  slaves  for  ever  ! 

Dion.  We  reserve 
This  proud  assassinating  demagogue. 
Who  whets  his  dagger  on  philosophy. 
For — an  example  to  his  cut-throat  school  \ — 
The  axe,  and  not  the  sword.     Out  of  his  blood 
We'll  mix  a  cement  to  our  monarchy — 
Here  do  we  doom  him  to  a  public  death  ! 
C 


26  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  II 

Damon.  Death's  the  best  gift  to  one  that  never  yet 
Wish'd  to  survive  his  country.     Here  are  men 
Fit  for  the  life  a  tyrant  can  bestow  .' 
Let  such  as  these  hve  on. 

Dion.  Hold  thou  there  ! 
Lest  having  stirr'd  our  vengeance  into  wrath. 
It  reach  unto  those  dearer  than  thyself. 
Ha !  have  I  touch'd  thee,  Damon?    Is  there  a  way 
To  level  thee  unto  the  feebleness 
Of  universal  nature  ?    What,  no  word  ? 
Come,  use  thy  time,  my  brave  philosopher! 
Soon  will  thy  tongue  cleave  an  unmoving  lump 
Of  thickest  silence  and  oblivion, 
And  that  same  wide  and  sweeping  hand  of  thine, 
Us*d  to  the  orator's  high  attitude. 
Lie  at  thy  side  in  inutihty. 
Thou  hast  few  moments  left ! 

Damon.  I  know  thee  well — 
Thou  art  wont  to  use  thy  tortures  on  the  heart. 
Watching  its  agonizing  throbs,  and  making 
A  science  of  that  fell  anatomy  1 
These  are  thy  bloody  metaphysics — this 
Thy  barbarous  philosophy  !  I  own 
Thou  hast  struck  thy  venom'd  sting  into  my  soul, 
But  while  I  am  wounded,  I  despise  thee  still  ! 
My  wife  !  my  child  ? — O,  Dionysius, 
Thou  should'st  have  spared  me  that  ! — Procles,  lead 
on.  [Exettnt. 

Scene  III. — ^  Chamber  in  Arria's  Hovse. 

Enter  Pxthias. 

Pyth.  What  shouts  I'end  the  wide  city  ?     There  is 
a  roar 
Deep  as.  the  murmuring  of  Etna.     Gods! 
1  tremble  for  his  safety.     What,  hoa,  there  ! 

Enter  Servant. 

Hast  thou.  Sirrah, 

Heard  no  intelligence  how  matters  speed 

Up  at  the  senate-house  ? 


V 


•><> 


Act  II]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  27 

Ser.  My  lord,  no  word. 

Pyih.  And  those  time-cheating  knaves  I  sent  to 
know, — 
They  have  not  yet  returned  ? 
Ser.  Not  yet,  my  lord. 

Pyth.  Run  thither,  then — for  thou  art  light-limb'd, 
•    Regard  Lord  Damon  well ;  note  how  he  seems, 
And  what  he  says — On,  on. 
Ser.  My  Lord,  I  will. 
Pyth,  And  hark  ! 
Observe  of  all  if  any  words  of  wrath 
Pall  between  him  and  Dionysius — 
'    Begone  !  [Earii  Servant. 

Pyth.  He  is  hotly  mettled. 
And  not  life's  autumn,  nor  the  discipline 
,  Of  cold  Pythagoras'  school  has  tam'd  it  yet. 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Ser.  My  lord, — 

Pyth.  Now  sir,  what  from  the  senate-house  ? 

.Ser.  My  lord,  I  know  not  of  the  senate-house. 

Pyth.  Not,  sir  !    I  sent  thee  thither,  did  I  not  ? 

Ser.  Another,  sir.     I  am  despatched  to  say, 
That  all  the  guests  and  witnesses  are  come. 
And  that  with  them  the  bride  Calanthe  waits 
-    To  have  thy  company  to  the  temple. 

Pyth.  How  !  ^ 

Is  it  the  hour  ? 

Ser.  The  hour,  my  lord,  is  past.       [Exit  Servant. 

Pyth.  Did  ever  man  upon  his  wedding-day 
Feel  so  impatient  of  the  hour  arriv'd 
That  is  to  bless  him  ?    But  I  dare  not  stir 
Till  I  have  tidings  of  my  friend — He  is 
Expos'd  to  deadly  loss,  and  may  have  need 
Of  Pythias'  sword.     By  Heaven,  I  do  him  wrong 
In  tarrying  from  his  presence  at  an  hour 
So  full  of  peril,  and  perhaps  of  death. 
Death,  did  I  say  ?    I  must 

Enter  Auria. 

drria.  Now,  Pythias,  Pythias, 


28  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  II 

Why  is  it  that  we  wait  so  long  for  thee  ? 
Fie  !  thou  a  bridegroom  !  absent  now  ? 

Fi/th.  Gods!  if  that  Dionysius 
Should  level  at  his  life ! — 1  pr'ythee,  Arria, 
How  soon  might  one  with  active  and  light  foot 
Run  to  the  senate-house,  and  back  again, 
From  hence  ? 

Arria.  Is  the  man  craz*d  and  lunatic  ? 
Is  it  your  pleasure  that  we  wait  a  season, 
1,  sir,  Calanthe,  and  our  guests  and  kinsmen. 
For  your  best  humour  to  get  wedded  in  ? 

Pi/th.  Good  Arria,  pardon  me  ;  take  not  amiss 
This  absent  seeming — but  I  am  not  well, 
I  know  not  how,  but  so  you  see  it  is — 
Give  me  an  half-hour — ay,  the  half— the  tithe 
Of  such  a  time  '. 

Arria.  Pythias,  indeed  art  ill  ? 

Pi/th.  rfuith,  I  am — sick  in  the  head  and  heart  ! 
Bear  with  me,  Arria  ;  go  among  our  guests. 
And  cheat  their  notice  of  this  accident, 
I  shall  be  better  quickly — Well,  quite  well. 

Arria.  The  gods  forefend  it  should  fall  otherwise. 

{Exit. 

Pyth.  O  how  these  leaden-footed  limping  minutes 
I/ag  and  creep  beneath  my  lashing  wish! 
When  fiery  expectation  mounts  the  time. 
Time  is  a  spiritless  and  jaded  steed, 
Tliat  staggers  'neath  his  rfder.     Gracious  gods  ! 
Will  none  of  them  come  to  relieve  this  weight 
From  my  o'er  loaded  heart! — What  shall  I  do  ? 
Ualanthe! 

Enter  Calanthe. 

Cal.  My  dear  Pythias! 

Fijtk.  Calanthe! 

Cal.  My  mother  whispered  me  you  were  not  well; 
And  here,  even  us  you- see  me,  though  you  should  not 
Have  seen  me  in  nty  bridal  garments  thus 
Till  we  were  wedded — yet  even  thus, 
I'o  speak  with  you,  and  comfort  you,  £  came. 
,    Pyth.  Beshrew  iier  heart  now,  though  slje  be  thy 
mother. 


Act  11]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  29 

For  such  ill-tim'd  and  womanish  whispering". 
I  am  as  well,  as  1  am  happy  too. 

Cal.  She  said,  too,  but  I  heed  it  not- 

Fyth.  What  said  she? 

Cal.  She  pray'd  the  gods  your  sickness  might  be 
free 
From  surfeit  sickness  :  but  I  heed  it  not : 
You  know  I  heed  it  not ;  I  cannot  think 
Your  heart  is  such  a  bad  one,  Tythias, 

Pyih,  How! 

Cal.  I  do  not  think  'tis  in  your  very  nature 
To  stumble  so — at  least,  I  do  not  think 
You  would  have  waited  till  this  very  hour. 
When,  like  two  plants  that  have  been  long  in  neigh- 
bourhood, 
Our  souls  had  crept  and  twin'd  around  each  other. 
Leaves,  fibres,  roots,  and  all ! 

Pyth.  Tears,  my  Calanthe  ! 
How  like  a  virgin  morn  in  May  thou  art, 
That  would  be  wedded  to  the  amorous  day, 
In  all  its  watery  freshness  !     My  fair  girl. 
The  maiden  pulse  beating  upon  thy  brow 
Is  not  so  faithful  to  its  sister  pulse, 
Which  throbs  within  this  little  heart  of  thine, 
As  I  have  been,  and  am  ! — Ha  !  dost  thou  smile  ? 
Now,  by  the  gods!  I  cannot  see  thee  smile, 
And  tarry  longer  from  the  property 
Of  this  dear  hand  I  grasp.     Come,  my  Calanthe, 
They  tarry  for  us,  do  they  not  ? 

Cal.  They  do. 

Pyth.  Nay,  do  not  bend  thy  head,  but  let  me  gaze 
Upon  thee  as  we  go,  that  those  fine  looks. 
So  full  of  life  and  joy,  may  banish  from  me 
The  ghastly  thought  of  death ! 

Cal.  Death  1 

Pyth.  Nay,  forgive  me  ; 
I  know  not  what  I  say. — Ye  bounteous  gods. 
Who  guard  the  good,  because  yourselves  are  good, 
Wave  your  protecting  arm  around  him ! — Come, — 
O,  Friendship!  thou  must  yield  it  for  a  time 
To  the  torch-bearer,  when  he  lights  his  fires 
c  2 


so  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  II 

From  two  such  eyes  as  tjiese  are  ! — Come,  Calanthe. 

[Exeuni. 

Scene  IV. — Jl  Du7igeon. 

Damon  discovered  at  a  table,  luriting. 

Damon.  Existence!  wliat  is  that?  a  name  ibr  notli- 
ing"! 
U  is  a  cloudy  sky  chas'd  by  the  winds  ; 
lis  fickle  form  no  sooner  chosen  than  chang'd  ; 
It  is  the  whirling  of  the  mountain  flood, 
Which,  as  we  look  upon  it,  keeps  its  shape, 
'i'hough  what  compos'd  that  shape,  and  what  com- 
poses, 
Hath  pass'd — will  pass — nay,  and  is  passing  on, 
Kven  while  we  think  to  hold  it  in  our  eyes. 
And  deem  it  there.     Fie!  fie!  a  feverish  vision, 
A  crude  and  crowded  dream,  unwill'd,  unbidden, 
By  the  weak  wretch  that  dreams  it. 

Enter  Procles  and  Guards. 

Proc.  Damon,  thine  hour  is  come. 

Damon.  Fast,  sir,  say  past, — to  come  argues  a  stay 
Upon  the  coming.  He  has  refus'd  me  then— 
Your  general,  Dionysius !— the  king — 
He  has  refused  me  even,  this  little  respite 
I  ask'd  of  him  ? 

Proc.  All!  he  refuses  all. 

Damon.  Did'st  tell  him  why  I  ask'd  it .«'    Did'st  ex- 
plain 
It  was  to  have  my  wife  warn'd  here  to  Syracuse, 
From  her  near  dwelling  upon  Etna's  side. 
To  see  me  ere  I  die  ? 

Proc.  I  said  it,  sir. 

Damon.  And  he  refused  it  ? 

Proc.  Ay,  sir;  he  refus'd. 

Damon.  Upon  the  instant, 

Proc.  Yes,  upon  the  instant. 

Damon.  Is  he  not  wedded  ? 

Proc.  Yes. 

Damon.  A  father,  too  ? 


AetU]  DAMON  ASM  FYTlilAS.  31 

Proc.  He  is  a  futlicr,  toj. 

Damon.  And  he  refus'd  it  ? 
I  will  attend  you,  and  1  pray  you  pardon — 
This  is  no  time  to  play  the  cutechist — 
The  little  boon  I  have  to  bc-j^  of  thee. 
It  is  the  last ;  1  would  not  fnin  be  irksonrie  ; 
It  is  the  last  I  shall  prc'eron  eartii 
Unto  my  fellow-inen.     This  is  my  testament — 
1  pray  thee  give  it  to  a  friend  of  mine 
Who  may  inquire  about  me  ;  he  will  hold  it 
And  use  it  for  my  wife. 

J^roc.  His  name  ? 

Damon.  It  is ~ 

I  did  not  wish  to  trust  my  coward  tongue 
With  utterance  of  that  name  ;  I  fear'd  it  would 
Pluck  up  all  manhood  by  the  roots  ;  but,  sir, 
This  now  is  childish  ;  Pythias,  sir — Alas  ! 
To-day  will  prove  a  woful  wedding-day 
To  thee,  and  thy  Calanthe  '.—and  my  Hermion, 

My  fond,  poor   Hermion,  and  my  boy Good  Pro- 

cles, 
Let  me  not  stand  here  talking  idly  thus — 
I  am  quite  ready — on,  sir ;  I  attend  you  !         {Exeunt. 


ACT  ill. 

Scene  I. — A  Temple  of  Hymsn. 

Pythias  an  JCalaxthe  discovered,  tvith  Kuu\x,  Guests, 
PriestSy  and  Virgins — Fytldas  holding  Calanthe's 
hand. 

Jlyynn.    1st  Priest  and  1st  Virgin, 

Thou  beneath  whose  holy  smile 
Lips  may  meet,  and  not  defile, 
And  hands  and  hearts  together  cling, 
Fearless  of  shame  and  sorrowing  : 
The  vows  we  offer.  Hymen,  hear  , 
Jlecord  the  oath  thv  votaries  swear  i 


32  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.         [Act  III 

Bless  the  hands  that  now  are  plight, 
And  sanctify  the  nuptial  rite  ! 

Chorus. 

Bless  the  hands  that  now  are  plight. 
And  sanctify  the  nuptial  rite  ! 

1st  Priest. 

Thou,  who  turn'st  to  holy  fire 
The  sinful  blaze  of  young  desire. 

1st  Virgin, 

Thou,  whose  hand-maid  virtues  deck 
The  bridal  flowers  for  beauty's  neck. 
That  the  fond  maid  as  blest  may  be, 
And  meet  his  wooing  modestly. 

Chorus. 

Bless  the  hands  that  now  are  plight. 
And  sanctify  the  nuptial  rite  ! 

At  the  beginning  of  this  Chorus^  Pythias  and  Calanthe 
kneel;  at  the  close  of  it,  Lucullus  enters,  and  runs 
up  to  Pythias,  and  -whispers  him;  Pythias  lets  drop 
Calanthe's  hand,  and  starts  up. 

Pyth.  Hold  !  hush  your  songs  of  Hymen,  for  I  hear 
A  raven's  croaking,  that  discordantly 
Breaks  in  upon  your  joyous  melody  ! 
(To  iwc.)  Where,   sirrah,   where?    Where,  shall  I 
speak  with  him  ? 

Luc.  He  did  desire,  my  lord,  that  I  should  lead  you. 

Pyth.  And  not  say  where  ? 

Luc.  It  was  his  charge,  my  lord. 

Pyth.  In  one  word,  say  the  hour  and  place  of  this. 
Or — ha  !  I  see  it  in  thine  eye — his  life,  "" 

His  life  is  forfeit — he  isdoom'd  to  death! 

Luc.  Alas !  my  lord. 

Pyth.  O,  by  the  gods,  it  is  so  ! 
And  like  a  selfish  coward  did  I  stand. 
And  saw  him  rush  and  singly  front  himself 
Against  a  host,  when  it  was  evident 


Act  III]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  33 

As  is  the  universal  li^ht  of  day, 

He  must  have  perish'd  in't — Coward  !  cowaid  ! 

He  would  not  thus  have  done  ! 

Iaic.  My  lord, 

Pyth.  Speak  not, 
I  know  thou  would'st  admonish  me  to  speed, 
Or  see  him  dead. 
Cal.  Pythias! 

Jirria.  Where  would'st  thou  go  ? 
Would  you  yet  more  insult  us  ? 
Cal.  Pythias  1 

Pyth.  Now  let  me  go— away,  I  say  • 
Cal.  Pythias! 

Pyth.  I  say  unloose  me,  or  by  all — 
Thou  art  as  guilty,  with  thy  blandishments, 
That  did  provoke  this  ruin,  as  I  am 
For  being  tempted  by  thee  !  —Woman,  away ! 
Cal.  Unkind  one! 

Pyth.  Ha !  thou  weepest !— O,  Calanthe  ! 
Forgive  me — pity  me — I  am  desperate  ! 
I  know    not   what  I  do— but — (Embraces   her,) — O, 

Calanthe, 
There  is  a  horrid  fate  that  tears  me  hence.    . 
Now,  Sirrah,  lead  me  on !— Away  !  away ! 

(^Btishes  out  -with  LucuUus.) 
[Sce7ie  closes  on  the  rest. 

Scene  H.— .2  Street. 
Enter  Dximoi<!,  guarded,  and  Procees. 

Damon.  A  moment's  pause  here,  Procles. 
We  discours'd  together 

Of  an  old  friend  of  mine,  w'u)  in  all  likelihood 
Would  question  thee  concerning  my  last  thoughts, 
While  leaving  this  vain  world  ;  I  do  entreat  thee, 
When  thou  shalt  see  that  man,  commend  me  to  him, 
And  say,  a  certainly  of  how  true  a  friend 
And  father  he  will  be  unto  my  wife 
And  child — 

Pyth.  (  Without)  Hold  back  !    it  is  rnipossiole 
That  ye  butcher  him,  till  we  speak  together ! 


34  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.         [ActlH 

Enter  Pythias,  preceded  by  SoldierSy  -who  obstruct  his 

■way. 

I  am  his  nearest  friend'  I  should  receive 

His  dying  words — hold  back!  {Breaks  through  them.) 

O,  Damon  !  Damon  ! 

Damon.  1  wish'd  for  this,  but  fear*d  it,  Pythias  ! 
Tush  ! — we  are  men,  my  Pythias,  we  are  men. 
And  tears  do  not  become  us. 

Pyth.  Doom  and  death 
In  the  same  moment !  is  there  no  hope,  Damon  ? 
Is  every  thing  impossible  ? 

Damon.  For  me. 
With  Dionysius,  every  thing — I  crav'd 
But  six  hours'  respite,  that  my  wife  may  come, 
And  see  me — 

Fyth.  And  he  would  not  ? 

Damon.  Not  an  hour — 
Just  to  have  kiss'd  her,  and  my  little  boy — 
Just  to  have  kiss'd  her — 

Pyth.  The  cold  villain  ! 

Damon,  Well, 
All  that  is  o'er  now,  and  this  talk  superfluous. 
Ere  you  came  up,  my  friend,  I  was  about 
To  leave  a  greeting  for  you  with  the  officer — 
I  bade  him  say,  too,— for,  despite  of  rules 
Well  conn'd  and  understood,  in  such  a  time 
As  this — so  sudden,  hopeless,  and  unlook'd  for. 
The  eye  will  water,  and  the  heart  grow  cowardly 
At  thoughts  of  home,  and  things  we  love  at  home  ; 
And  something  like  a  sorrow,  or  a  fear. 
For  what  may  happen,  will  stick  in  the  throat. 
To  choke  our  words,  and  make  them  weak  and  wo- 
manish. 

Pyth.  Tears  have  a  quality  of  manhood  in  them, 
When  shed  for  what  we  love. 

Damon.  I  bade  him  say. 
That  half  my  fear  for  her,  and  my  young  boy, 
As  to  their  future  fate,  was  banished. 
In  the  full  certainty  I  felt  of  all 
The  care  and  kindness  thou  wilt  have  of  them. 


ActUI]         DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  35 

Pyth.  That  was  a  true  thought,  Damon. 

Damon,  I  know  it,  Pythias  ; 
O,  I  know  it  Pythias ; 

And  when  the  shock  of  this  hath  pass*d  away, 
And  thou  art  happy  with  thy  sweet  Calanthe, 

Pyth.  Damon. 

Damon,  Well,  Pythias  ? 

Pyth.  Did'st  thou  not  say 
It  was  thy  last  desire  to  look  upoit 
Thy  wife  and  child,  before 

Damon.  I  would  give  up, 
Were  my  life  meted  out  by  destiny 
Into  a  thousand  years  of  happiness^ 
All  that  long  measure  of  felicity. 
But  for  a  single  moment,  in  the  which 
I  might  compress  them  to  my  heart. 

Pyth.  Good  Procles, 
Lead  me  at  once  to  Dionysius — 
I  mean  unto  the  king — that's  his  new  name— ^ 
Lead  me  unto  the  king — Ha  !  here  he  comes  \ 

Enter  DioNTSitrs  and  Damocles. 

Behold  me,  Dionysius,  at  thy  feet! 

As  thou  dost  love  thy  wife,  and  thy  sweet  children ; 

As  thou  art  a  husband  and  a  father,  hear  me  ! 

Let  Damon  go  and  see  his  v.'ife  and  child 

Before  he  dies — for  four  hours  respite  him — 

Put  me  in  chains  :  plunge  me  into  his  dungeon, 

As  pledge  for  his  return  ;  do  this — but  this — 

And  may  the  gods  themselves  build  up  thy  greatness 

As  high  as  their  own  heaven. 

Dion.  What  wonder's  this.'' 
Is  he  thy  brother  ? 

Damon.  No,  not  quite  my  brother  ! 
Not — yes,  he  is — he  is  my  brother  ! 

Dion.  Damon,  is  this  a  quibble  of  thy  school? 

Pyth.  No  quibble,  for  he  is  not  so  in  kin. 
Not  in  the  fashion  that  the  world  puts  on. 
But  brother  in  the  heart ! 

Dion.  {To  Damon.)  Did'st  urge  him  on 
To  this  ? 


36  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  III 

Pyth.  By  the  gods,  no  ! 

Dion,  And  should  I  grant 
Thy  friend's  request,  leaving-  thee  free  to  go. 
Unvvatch'd,  unguarded,  thou  mak'st  nought  of  it, 
Quite  sure  that  thou  wilt  come  and  ransom  him. 
At  the  imminent  time? 

Damon.  Sure  of  it  ?     Hearest  thou,  Heaven  ? 
The  emptiest  things  reverberate  most  sound, 
And  hollow  hearts  have  words  of  boisterous  promise. 
I  can  say  only — I  am  sure  ! 

Dio7i.  'Tis  granted. 
How  far  abides  thy  wife  from  hence  ? 

Damon.  Four  leagues. 

Dion.  For  six  hours  we  defer  thy  death.     *Tis  now 
The  noon  exactly  ;  and  at  the  sixth  hour 
See  that  thou  stand'st  not  far  from  him  ;  away  ! 
Conduct  that  man  to  prison. 

Damon.  Farewell,  Pythias ! 

Pyth.  And  farewell,  Damon!  Not  a  word  upon  it. 
Speed  thee.    What,  tears  ? — Forbear. 

Damon,  I  did  not  think 
To  slied  one  tear;  but  friendship  like  to  thine — 

Pyth.  Farewell  !  Come,  Officer. 

Damon.  I  pray  thee,  Frocles, 
Give  me  the  testament  thou  had'st  of  me. . 

[Procles  gives  it  him, 
Pythias,  thy  hand  again  ;  Pythias,  farewell ! 

Pyth.  Farewell! 

[Exit  Damov  on  one  side,  Pythias,  Procles  and 
Guards  on  the  other. 

Dion.   O,  by  the  wide  world,  Damocles, 
1  did  not  think  the  heart  of  man  was  moulded 
To  such  a  purpose, 

Dam.  It  is  wondrous, 

Dion^  Wondrous ! 
Sir,  it  doth  win  from  the  old  imaglners 
Their  wit  and  novelty!— 
I'll  visit  Pythias  in  his  dungeon  : — get  me 
A  deep  disguise.— "V/e*ll  use  such  artifice 
As  the  time,  and  our  own  counsel  may  suggest.--* 
If  they  should  triumph,  crowns  are  nothingness. 


Act  III]         DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  37 

Glory  is  sound — and  grandeur,  poverty !        [Exeunt, 

ScEKE  III. — Another  Street. 
Enter  Damox  anf/I.ucun.TJS. 

Luc.  O  my  dear  lord,  my  master,  and  my  friend, 
The  sight  of  you  thus  safe 

Damon.  Safe  ! 

Luc.  For  at  least 
A  respite,  my  kind  lord. 

Damon.  No  more,  Lucullus. 
Is  my  horse  ready  ? 

Luc.  Yes,  the  gallant  grey 
Of  Anaxagoras  you  lately  purchased. 

Enter  Calanthe. 

Cal.  Hold  sir ! — Is  what  they  tell  me  true  ? 

Damon.  Calanthe, 
At  any  time  save  this,  thy  voice  would  have 
The  power  to  stay  me — Pr'ythee,  let  me  pass — 
Nor  yet  abridge  me  of  that  fleeting  space 
Given  to  my  heart. 

Cal.  Speak,  have  they  said  the  truth  ? 
Have  you  consented  to  put  in  the  pledge 
Of  Pythias'  life  for  your  return  ? 

Damon.  'Tis  better 
That  I  should  say  to  her, — "Hermion  I  die  !'* 
Than  that  another  should  hereaftertell 
"  Damon  is  dead  !" 

Cal.  No,  you  would  say  to  her, 
"  Pythias  has  died  for  me" — even  now  the  citizens 
Cried  in  mine  ear,  "  Calanthe,  look  to  it  !" 

Damon.  And  do  you  think  I  would  betray  him  ! 

Cal.  Think  of  it?— 
I  give  no  thought  upon  it — Possibility, 
Though  it  should  weigh  but  the  least  part  of  a  chance. 
Is  quite  enough — Damon  may  let  him  die — 
Ay,  meanly  live  himself,  and  let  him  die  ! 

Damon.  Calanthe,  I'll  not  swear — When  men  lift  up 
Their  hands  unto  the  gods,  it  is  to  give 
Assurance  to  a  doubt :     But  to  confirm 
D 


38  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.         [Act  III 

By  any  attestation  the  return 
Of  Damon  unto  Pythias,  would  profane 
The  sanctity  of  friendship — Fare  thee  well — 
Nay,  cling  not  to  me. 

Cal.  So  will  Hermion  cling — 
But  Damon  will  not  so  reject  her. — 
She  will  implore  thee  back  to  life  again, 
And  her  loud  cries  will  pierce  thy  inmost  breast. 
And  Pythias  will  be  murder'd. 

Damon.  I  must  unloose  thy  grasping. 

Cal.  Mere)',  Damon  •' 

Damon.  Unwillingly  I  stay  thy  struggling  hands — 
Forgive  me  foi't. 

Cal.  Damon,  have  mercy  on  me  ! 

Damon,  May  the  gods  bless  thee! 

[Exeunt  Damon  and Lucullut. 

Cal.  Darhon,  mercy,  Damon  I 
He  flies!  and  there's  a  voice  tliat  from  my  heart, 
As  from  the  grave,  cries  out,  that  never  more 
He  will  return  to  Pythias. — Hermion — his  child— 
And  his  own  selfish  instinct — or  some  accident 
May  fall,  and  stay  iiim  back,  and  tliat  will  be 
The  axe  to  Pythias  ! — O,  I  will  follow  him — 
I'll  tell  him  that,  and,  like  a  drowning  wretch, 
Fasten  about  his  neck,  and  cling  to  him  ! 
But,  ah  I — he  flies— his  steed  is  on  the  wind  ! 
My  evil  demon  wings  him,  and  he  tramps 
Already  the  wide  distance  ! — Pythias, 
The  flowers  in  bridal  mockery  on  my  brow 
Thus  I  rend  off,  and  keep  them  for  the  grave ! 

JE/j/erDiONYsius  disguised. 

Dion.  Thy  name's  Calanthe,  and  thou  art  the  bride 
Of  Pythias — is't  not  thus? 

Cal.  What  dost  thou  come 
To  say  to  me  of  Pythias? 

Dion.  Art  thou  not 
His  bride  ? 

Cal.  The  marriage-temple  was  prepared, 
The  virgin's  voices  were  sent  up  to  Heaven, 
When  death  did  all  at  once 


Act  III]         DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  39 

Rise  up,  and  all  that  pomp  did  disappear, 
And  for  the  altar,  I  behold  the  tomb  ! — 
He  never  will  return. 

Dion.  He  will  not. 

Cal  Ha! 
Dost  thou  confirm  my  apprehensions  ? 
They  were  black  enough  ah'eady — and  thy  smile   ] 
It  is  the  gloss  upon  the  raven's  plumes — 
Thy  smile  is  horrible  ! 

Bion.  Calanthe,  hear  me. 
The  tyrant  Dionysius,  has  resolved 
To  intercept  this  Damon,  and  prevent 
His  coming  back  to  Syracuse. 

Cal.  O,  gods  ! 

Dio7i.  1  am  an  inmate  in  the  tyrant's  house. 
And  learn'd  his  fell  decree! 

Cal.  Then,  speed  thee  hence  : 
Mount  thou  the  fleetest  steed  in  Syracuse-   '■ 
Pursue  the  unhappy  Damon— tell  him  this; 
I  know  he  has  a  brave  and  generous  nature, 
"Will  not  betray  his  friend  !     Go  after  him 
And  save  my  husband  ! 

Bion.  I  have  found  a  way 
To  rescue  him  already:  thou  and  Pythias 
Shall  fly  from  Syracuse. 

Cal.  What !  shall  he  'scape 
The  tyrant's  fangs  ? 

Bion.  For  ever! — But  thou  must 
Follow  my  precept. 

Cal.  I  will  obey  you,  sir. 
And  bless  you ! 

Bion,  Then  to  Pythias — come  with  me.     [Exevnt. 

Scene  IV. — A  Terrace  attached  to  the  Prison^  ivith  the 
Sea  outstretched  before  it. — ^  Portal  on  one  side — 
en  the  other,  the  dungeoii-door  of  Pythias,  barred  and 
chained. 

Enter  Diontsius,  preceded  by  an  Officer  who  points  to 
the  dungeon. 

Dion,  Is  this  the  dungeon  ? — Unbar  the  door. — 


40  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.         [Act  IH 

I'll  probe  him  deeply. — 

Slave  ! 

Observe  well  the  orders  that  I  gave  thee  ! 

[Motions  him  aivay,  and  opens  the  door. 
My  lord  Pythias ! — 

Pyth.  (rviihin.)     How  now  !  who  calls  me  ? 
Dion.  A  friend,  Pythias  ; — the  time  is  precious ; — ■ 
haste, 
And  follow  me. 

Enter  Pythias. 

Pyth,  Where  do  you  lead  me  ? 

Dion.  I  come 
To  serve  and  succour  thee. 

Pyth.  And  who  art  thou. 
And  how  can'st  succour  me? 

Dion.  I  dwell  beneath  the  tyrant's  roof,  andlearn'd 
by  accident 
This  fell  determination — he  hath  resolv'd 

Pyth,  My  life  !— 

Dion.  Thy  life ! 
Ere  this,  he  has  despatch'd  some  twenty  men 
To  intercept  thy  friend,  on  his  approach 
"to  meet  and  ransom  thee. 

Pyth.  Almighty  Heaven! 

Dion.  He  not  arriving  at  the  appointed  hour. 
Thy  life  is  forfeited. 

Pyth.  We  try  the  depth  together ;  I  had  hop'd 
That  one  or  other  of  us  could  have  liv'd 
For  thy  poor  Hermion's,  or  Calanthe's  sake. — 
No  matter. 

Dio7i.  Pythias,  I  came  to  save  thee. 

Pyth.  What  dost  thou  mean  ? 

Dion.  Urg'd  by  my  pity  for  such  noble  friends, 
So  trusting  and  betray'd — anxious,  besides. 
To  leave  the  tyrant's  court. 
Hither  I  brib'd  my  way. — Thy  fair  Calanthe 
Shall  be  the  partner  of  thy  flight. — Thy  father — 

Pyth,  Sir!— 

Dion,  Yes,  thy  father,  too — thy  time-struck  father, 
Who,  till  this  day,  for  many  circling  years 


Act  111]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  41 

Hath  not  held  human  intercourse, 

Was  visited  by  me — he  hath  uprais'd  him 

From  his  lonely  bed. 

Filth.  Thou  speukest  of  miracles! 
Dion.  And  ere  I  came,  with  all  despatch  and  se- 
crecy, 
I  have  provided  in  the  port  of  Syracuse 
A  good  quick-sailing  ship — yonder  she  lies, 
Her  sails  already  spread  before  the  breeze. 
And  thou,  and  thy  Calanthe — see,  she  comes — 
Haste,  lady,  haste  to  thy  betrothed  lord  ! 
Pyth.  Wide-working-  Heaven,  Calanthe  ! 

Enter  CALA"BfTHE. 

Cal.  Pythias! 
Though  when  thou  should'st  have  cherished,  thou 

did'st  spurn  me> 
Though  in  the  holy  place  where  we  had  met 
To  vow  ourselves  away  unto  each  other, 
Though  there,  when  I  was  kneeling  at  thy  feet, 
Thou  did'st  forswear,  and  mock  at  me—yet  here 
I  do  forgive  thee  all — and  I  will  love  thee 
As  never  woman  lov'd  her  young  heart's  idol. 
So  thou  but  speed'st  to  safety. 

Pyth.  Hold,  Calanthe.— 
If  mothers  love  the  babe  upon  the  breast. 
When  it  looks  up  with  laughter  in  its  eyes, 
Making  them  weep  for  joy—if  they  can  love, 
I  loved,  and  do  love  thee,  my  Calanthe  : — 
But  wert  thou  magnified  above  thyself. 
As  much  in  fascination  as  thou  art 
Above  all  creatures  else, — by  all  the  gods, 
In  awful  reverence  sworn,  I  would  not  cheat 
My  honour ! 
Cal.  How  ! 

Dion.  Madman,  what  dost  intend  ! 
Pyth.  Dost  thou  not  know  the  tvrant  spar'd  his 
life, 
On  the  security  I  gave  for  him — 
Stand  I  not  here  liis  pledge  ?         ^ 
I}ion.   (aside.)    'Tis  wonderful  I 
d2 


42  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  III 

His  brow  is  fix'd ;  his  eye  is  resolute. 

Cal.  Pythias,  mine  idoliz'd  and  tender  Pythias — 
Am  I  then  scorn'd? — Behold  !  look,  Pythias, there! 

Pyth.  What  do  I  see  ? 

Cal.  Thy  father,— Nicias  ! 
He  who  did  give  thee  being",  and  the  blood 
That  bvibbles  round  thy  heart.      Since  my  poor  tears 
Are  valueless,  hear  him,  and  disobey  not. 

Pijth.  Ha!  dream  I  this? 

Dion,  {aside.)    There  !  he  is  shaken  there  ! 

Enter  Nicias,  extremely  old  and  feeble. 

JK'icias.  Where  is  my  son,  the  child  of  my  old  years. 
The  last  of  all  my  blood— where  is  my  son  ? 
I  scarce  behold  the  day -light — where  is  my  son  ? 

Pyih.  Here,  father,  here  ! 

J\'icias.  Is  this  my  Pythias'  hand  ? 
Arc  these  his  arms  that  press  me  ?  O,  my  son, 
Come  to  thy  father's  heart !    Child  of  my  age, 
I  do  believe  thou  lov'st  me  ! 

Pyth.  O,  my  father! 
Witness  these  burning  tears,  tears  which  came  not 
In  such  a  gush  as  now. 

J\''icias.  Upon  my  lonely  bed,  thy  long  lost  name, 
Pronounc'd  in  shrieking  anguish,  to  mine  ear 
Came,  and  I  heard  it — the  first  human  sound 
That  for  a  lapse  of  time  held  intercourse 
"With  my  forgotten  heart— and  lo  i  1  heard  it! 
And  then  lask'd  of  thee,  and  what  they  purpos'd 
To  do  on  thee — and  here  I  came,  my  son, 
To  go  with  thee  to  safety. 

Pyth.  Spare  me  that! 
All  things 
I'll  do  but  that ;  and  that  I  dare  not  do. 

J\ricias.  The  tyrant  doth  break  fiiith  vi'ith  thee. 

Pyth.  'Tis  said  so. 

Cal.  And  Damon  cannot  come  to  be  thy  ransom. 

Pyth.  I  have  heard  it,  my  Calanthe, 

Cal.  And  that  thou — 
That  thou — O  gods !— must  die  when  he  comes  not  ? 

Pv^/i.  And  that!  know,  Caianthe, 


Act  III]         DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  43 

Ca/.  If  thou  knowest  it, 
What  is  thy  heart,  that  it  can  still  be  obstinate  ? 

Pyth.  I  should  not  have  heard  it ;  or,  having  heard 
it, 
I  still  may  hold  it  false.     This  busy  world 
Is  but  made  up  of  slight  contingencies — 
There  are  a  thousand  that  may  alter  this, 
Or  leave  it  where  it  was  : — there  is  not  one 
Should  push  us  a  mere  point  from  any  pledge 
Of  manliness  and  honour. 

JSTicias.  Look  on  thy  father,   Pythias— he  scarce 
sees 
His  son— darkness  has  pour'd  her  waters  on  him. 
Quenching  the  spark  that  lights  up  human  life, 
In  gay  variety  ;  yet  I  would  Hve. 

Pyth.  And'  ^ti  would  I,  my  fath^,>|  /- 
IJAg  t>sAj*p^t,Jieii:ii^»8L,-ugnd,cHein^yfou  ! 
Ove  to  possess  my  own  Calanthe  here. 
Who  recommends  existence  with  a  smile 
So  sad  and  beautiful !— Yet  would  I  live, 
But  not  dishonour'd— Still,  Calanthe,  he  may  return! 
May  !  may  ! — That  word  ends  all ! — Death  looks  but 

grimly, 
And  the  deep  grave  is  cheerless— yet  I  do — 
I  do  prefer  the  certainty  of  death 
Unto  the  possibility  of  dishonour  ! 

J\^icias.    Pythias  my  son,  the  cold  dim  house  of 
death — 
To  be  a  lonely,  shuddering  tenant  in  it, 
Or  live  in  sunshine  one's  own  young  heart  gives  out! 
Thy  hand,  Calanthe  ;  give  thy  hand,  my  girl,— 
And  thine,  my  son— here,  take  her— save,  or  lose 
her! 

Ca!.  Thyself,  and  me  1     Save  both! 

Dioji.  Behold  !   Behold! 

{Fointing  to  the  side  of  the  stage.) 
The  good  ship  hath  her  streaming  signal  out ! 
The  canvass  swells  up  to  the  wooing  wind  ! 
The  boat  puts  off— now,  now,  or  never! 

Cal.  See 
How  swiftly,  in  her  gallant  liberty 


44  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.         [Act  III 

She  comes  through  the  calm  sea  ! — 0,  hark !  the  oars, 

How  rapidly  they  plash  in  harmony ! 

O  look  at  freedom,  Pythias  look  at  it ! 

How  beautiful  it  is  upon  t!ie  sea  ! 

Pythias,  my  Pythias — O  !  how  we  shall  laugh 

"While  bounding  o'er  the  blessed  wave  that  bears  us 

From  doom  and  death,  to  some  fair  Grecian  isle  ! 

Dion.  See,  they  approach  !  dost  hesitate  ? 
JVicias.  My  son ! 

Cal.  Pythias  ! — my  husband,  Pythias  ! 

Pyth.  No  !  no  !  so  help  me  heaven  ! — 'Tis  hard  ! — 
It  plucks  my  heart  up— but,  no  !  no  !  {Kneels.) 

Cal.  Q,  gods  !     (She  falls  mto  his  arms.) 

ScEXE  I. — The  exterior  of  Damon's  Villa. 
Enter  Damon-  and  Ltjcullus. 

Damon.  At  last,  I  have  arriv'd  !    At  last,  Lucullus, 
I've  reach'd  the  place  to  which  my  heart  did  send 
Its  throbbing  far  before  mc.     {Leans  on  Lucullus.) 

Lvc.  Good,  my  lord. 

Damon.  It  is  not  for  the  beauty  of  this  place. 
It  is  not  for  the  keen  intenser  sense 
Existence  hath  in  this  delicious  spot, 
Where  every  breath  is  a  nev/  act  of  bliss, — 
Lucullus,  no  ;  it  is,  t!iat  here  my  wife — 
That  here  in  this  enchanting  solitude. 
My  boy,  my  only  one — T  dare  not  see  them  ! 
Lucullus,  wer't  not  better  togo  back, 
And  die  without  beholding  them  ? 

Lxic.  My  lord, 
The  day  moves  on  in  Heaven;  jou  have  little  t'wne 
Left  for  this  fatal  parting. 

Damon.  Come,  1  must  wake 
My  manhood  up  again  ! — I  will  go  in 
At  once,  Lucullu?;  go  thou  hence,  Lucullus, 


Act  IV]         DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  45 

And  tend  our  horses. — T  have  scarcely  power 
To  lift  the  latch.     (^Looks  out.)  O,  gods ! 

Luc.  What  is  the  matter  > 

Damon.  Look!  there  she  is,  Lucullus,  and  my  boy 
Beside  her.— She  (poor  sv/eet  thing- 1)  in  the  bovver 
Of  jasmine,  where  she  knows  I  love  to  sit 
And  look  upon  the  setting  of  the  sun. 
Prepares  a  little  feast  for  me.     Behold 
With  what  a  diligence  she  puts  in  trim 
Her  banquet  of  fair  fruits  ! — My  little  boy,  too. 
Waits  at  her  side,  and  with  uplifted  hands 
Unto  her  care  doth  minister  1     To-day, 
I  said  that  I  should  visit  her,  and  this 
Is  meant  for  my  reception. — Come,  come,  Damon, 
Be  a  man  again  ! — Lucullus,  take  thou  care 
To  have  our  horses  ready. — How  I  tremble  ! 

{Exit  Damon. 

JLuc.  Never  shall  he  return,  if  there  be  power 
In  this  quick  hand  to  cast  an  intercept 
Between  him  and  perdition :  though  it  cost 
My  life,  he  shall  not  die  ;  perhaps  he'll  kill  me, 
But  time  shall  come,  when  at  Lucullus'  name. 
He  will  lift  up  his  hands,  and  weep  for  me  !        [Exit. 

Scene  II. — .^  Garden, 

HERMioif  discovered  arranging  a  little  Feast. — Her 
Child  beside  her,  luith  a  basket  of  Flowers, 

Child.  Will  he  come  soon  home,  mother! 

Herm^  I  pray  the  gods 
He  may,  my  child. 

Child.  It  seems  so  long  a  time 
Since  he  has  ta'en  me  on  his  knee,  and  kiss'd  me. 

Herm.  Hark  thee,  my  boy  ! 
This  is  the  hour,  wherein  Lucullus  said 
He  would  arrive  to-day  to  visit  us. 
Go,  see  if  he  be  coming  ;  he'll  be  glad 
To  greet  the  rosy  fruit  upon  thy  cheeks. 
Even  as  he  enters  our  sweet  garden  heie. 
Hie  thee,  and  bear  me  word  if  he  approaches — 
The  first  kiss  shall  be  thine.  {Exit  Child. 


46  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.         [Act  IV 

Herm.  Thou  unkind  Damon  ! 
To  send  me  here  to  woman*s  loneliness, 
A  prey  to  all  the  sickening  hopes  and  fears 
I  must  have  of  thee,  in  these  blustering'  times. 

Enter  Damox,  ivith  the  Child  in  his  arms. 

Child  See,  I  have  found  him  for  you,  mother  ! 

Herm.   Ha ! 

Damon,  Hermion  !  my  treasure,  Hermion  ! 

Herm,   My  dear  lord 
1  had  prepar'd  this  little  feast  for  you, 
But  hope  at  last  grew  sick  within  my  heart. 
And  I  could  hardly  force  it  to  a  thought 
That  yet  thou  would'st  arrive — Oft  1  look'd  out 
Upon  the  weary  way  thou  should'st  have  journeyM, 
And  oft  the  hills'  dim  vapour  rose  like  Damon, 
Till  the  sun  came  to  shape  it,  and  to  show  me 
That  yet  tiiou  wert  away. 

Damon.  And  are  ye  then, 
Are  ye  so  helpless  in  our  absence,  Hermion ! 

Herm.  Come,  now — you  know  it.  O  my  dear,  dear 
husband ! 
If  I  should  tell  thee  of  my  q\iaking  heart. 
While  thou  art  bustling  there  in  Syracuse, — 
Why  wilt  thou  start  ? — 'twould  cheat  thee  of  thy  tears, 
And  make  thee  womanish  ;  and — for  I  know 
Thou  lov'st  thy  own  poor  Hermion, — thou  should'st 

swear 
Never  again  to  leave  her. 

Damon.  Nerve  me.  Heaven  ! 

Herm.  Indeed  thou  should'st !  and  look  thee  here, 
my  Damon, 
But  for  this  little  boy,  who  is  so  like  thee 

Damon.  Is  he  so  very  like  me,  Hermion  ? 

Herm.  Nay, 
A  very  little  self  of  thee  ; — and,  but 
For  looking  long  into  his  face — so  long 
That  the  tears  blinded  me, — I've  half  consented 
To  think  it  was  thyself;  and  then  I  kiss'd 
My  boy,  and  I  was  happy  for  a  time. 
And  but  for  this,  my  Damon,  and  bis  talk. 


Act  IV]        DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  47 

His  childish  prattle  on  my  knee,  of  what 

He  would  achieve  and  be — Come,  Sir,  rehearse 

These  matters  over  ;  say  what  would'st  thou  be  i 

Damon.  What  would'st  thou  be,  my  boy  ? 
Child.  A  soldier,  father. 

Damon.  Come,  come,  now,  not  a  soldier. 
Child.,Nay,  but  I'd  choose,  sir, 
To  be  what  Pythias  is. 

Damon.   {Much  moved.)  Thou  art  a  brave  boy  ? 
Go  pluck  a  flower  from  yonder  gay  recess. 
At  the  other  end  of  the  garden'. — Wreathe  me  now 
The  fairest  garland  for  my  welcome — there — 
A  brave,  brave  boy.  [Exit  Child, 

Now,  gods! — {Aside.) 

Herm.  Dost  thou  not  think 
He  grows  apace  ? 

Damon.  Have  I  in  all  my  life 
Given  thee  an  angry  look,  or  word,  or  been 
Ever  an  unkind  mate,  my  Hermion  ? 

Herm.  Never!   the  gods  know,  never! 

Damon.  From  thy  heart 
Thou  sayest  this  ? 

Herm.  Yea,  from  my  inmost  heart ! 

Damon.  I  am  glad  of  it :  for  thou  wilt  think  of  this 
When  I  am  dead,  my  Hermion  :  and  'twill  make  thee 
The  kindest  mother  to  our  boy  1 

Herm.  O,  gods ! 
Why  dost  thou  talk  of  death  ?     Damon,  thy  cheek, 
Thy  lip  is  quivering — art  sick,  or  griev'd 
'With  some  discomfiture?     O,  these  wild  wars 
And  bickerings  of  the  state,  how  have  they  robbed 

thee 
Of  thy  soul's  quiet ! 

Damon.  Tell  me,  tell  me,  Hermion, — 
Suppose  I  should  impart  the  heaviest  news 
That  could  possess  thine  ear,  how  would'st  thou  bear 
it? 

Jlerm.  Laugh  at  it ! — mock  at  it  to  make  thee  smile, 
And  teach  thee  to  be  happy  in  despite 
Of  any  turn  of  fortune. — What  dost  thou  mean? 
What  heavy  news  ?  I  know  the  part  thou  takest 
In  the  state's  service. — Hath  the  tyrant  risen  ? 


48  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.         [Act  IV 

Damon.  He  hath ;  but  that's  not  it. 

Herm.  The  Carthagenians 
Have  sack'd  the  city  ? 

Damon.  No ! 

Herm.  Why  then  thy  friend 
So  well  belov'd  of  thee — Pythias! — 'tJs  he  ! 

Damon.  No,  thank  the  gods,  not  he  ! 

Herm.  What  is  it  then  ? — 

The  heaviest  news  that  could  possess  mine  ear  ! 

Ha  !  *tis  thyself— some  danger  hath  befallen  thee. 
Or  threatens  thee. — Speak,  my  dear  Damon,  speak, 
Or  I  shall  die  of  thoughts  that  come  to  kill  me ! 

Damon.  When  I  wooed  thee,  Hermion, 

'Twas  not  the  fashion  of  thy  face,  or  form, 

Though  from  the  hand  of  Heaven  thou  camest  so  rich 

In  all  external  loveliness,  it  was  not 

Such  excellence  that  rivetted  my  heart 

And  made  me  thine  ;  but  I  said  to  myself. 

Thus  : — Here  is  one,  who,  haply  were  I  wreck'd, 

Or,  were  1  to-morrow,  or  a  later  day. 

Struck  down  by  fortune — 

Herm.  Wert  thou  made  as  low 
From  what  thou  art  as  earth's  foundation-stone 
Is  from  the  top  of  Etna — did  men  scorn  thee — 

Damon.  Nay,  thus  I  said,  my  Hermion  :— Did  the 
blow 
Fall  deadly  as  it  might — here  is  a  woman 
Who  hath  such  firm  devotion  in  her  love. 
She  would  not  rend  my  heart,  but  for  my  sake, — 
And,  should  we  have  a  child,  for  his  sake  too, — 
Bear  firmly  up,  though  death  itself — 

Berm.  Death!  Death! 

Damon:  ( Giving  her  the  testament.') 
Take  this — read  this — 'twill  speak  what  I  cannot — 
I  thought  I  could,  and  by  the  gods  I  cannot ! 

Herm.  Ha !  here's  a  poisoning  adder  in  this  scroll, 
It  eats  into  my  heart  I— Die,  Damon!  Death  ! 
When  ?  how  ?  I  cannot  understand  it — Die  I 
Where  ?  what  offence  ? 

Damon.  I  have  been  doom'd  to  death  by  Dionysius. 

Berm.  But  thou  hast  'scaped  the  sentence  ;  thou 
art  here. 


Act  IV]         DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  49 

Alone !  unguarded ! — It  is  but  to  fly 
To  Greece,  or  Italy,  or  any  where 
From  this. 

Damon.  From  this  to  Syracuse. — I'll  tell  thee — 
Ere  now  I  had  been  dead — 

Herm.  No  !  no  ! 

Damon.  Ere  this 
I  had  been  dead,  but  that  my  friend,  my  Pythias, 
By  putting  on  my  fetters — giving  up 
Himself  as  hostage  for  my  sure  return, — 
Wrought  on  the  tyrant  to  bestow  me  time 
To  see  thee  here. 

Herm.  By  the  wide  world,  thou  shalt  not ! 
I  hold  thee  here — these  arms  encompass  thee 
As  doth  thy  heart  its  life-spring  ! 

Damon.  Not! 

Herm.  Thou  shalt  not ! 

Damon.  Not !    not  return  !— Not  go  to  take  my 
friend 
Out  of  the  fetters  I  have  hung  upon  him  ? 

Herm.  Life  !  to  save  that,  the  wrong  becomes  the 
right ! 
The  gods  that  made  us  have  so  quicken'd  us, 
Nature  so  prompts  us,  and  all  men  forgive  it, 
Because  all  men  would  do  it. — By  the  love 
(If  thou  hast  any)  of  thy  wife  and  child — 
Ay,  frown— do  Damon,  frown,  and  kill  me  too. 
Or  live  for  us ! 

Re-enter  Child  -mth  Jloxvers. 

The  blessed  gods  have  sent  thee 

With  thy  sweet  helplessness—kneel  down,  my  child, 

Hold  up  thy  little  hands  with  mine,  and  pray 

Not  to  be  made  an  orphan — not  so  soon, 

So  very  soon  ! — Kind  Damon,  look  upon  us  ! 

Husband,  look  on  us,  we  are  at  thy  feet ! 

Damon.  Ye  are  !— I  see  it,  and  my  heart  bleeds  for 
ye  ! 
I  must  turn  my  eyes  away  from  you 
While  you  are  urging  me  to  my  dishonour, 
E 


50  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.         [Act  IV 

And  bid  me  murder  him  that  I  may  live  ! 
Hermion  farewell  ! 

(Turning-  round  aud  embracing  her.) 
fferm.  (In  agony)  Live  Damon  !  live  !  live !  live  ! 
Damon.  Hermion,  my  life,  look  up  !    awake,  my 
Hermion.  (6726  srvoons  in  his  arms.) 

Unier  an  old  Servant. 

Damon.  The  hour  is  past!  I  trifle  with  necessity  ! 
Hermion  !  I  now  indeed  must  part  from  thee. 
All  pale  and  cold  and  deaiii-like  as  thou  art: 
Thus  may  I  part  from  thee,  to  g-o  and  be 
Myself  full  soon  as  cold  ! — Here,  here,  old  man, 
Here,  hold  her  from  the  earth, — 

(  Giving  Hermion  to  the  old  Servant.) 
And  say  to  her. 

With  what  a  broken-hearted  love  I  press'd  her 
For  the  last  time  ! — And,  Neucles,  for  my  sake 
Be  thou  a  faithful  servant  when  i  am  gone  ! 
Once  more — My  child  too! — O,  this  is  too  much  ! 
My  little  orphan  ! — My  dear  boy  !  the  gods, 
The  gods  will  take  my  care  of  thee,  my  child ! 

{Rushes  out, 

ScENB  HI. —  The  exterior  of  Damon^s   Villa. 

Enter  Lucdllus. 

Luc.  It  is  achiev'd  !  He  comes  !  in  desperate  hasto 
He  rushes  from  the  garden — Shall  I  fly 
From  the  swift  fury  that  will  wait  upon 
The  terrible  revealment  ? — 'Tis  too  late! 

Enter  Damox. 

Damon.  'Tis  o'er,  Lucullus — Bring  thou  forth  my 
horse — 
lihave  staid  too  long,  Lucullus,  and  my  speed 
Must  leave  the  winds  behind  me  :  By  the  godj«, 
The  sun  is  rushing  down  the  west  i 

Luc.  My  Lord 

Damon.  Why  dost  thou  tremble  ?    Fetch  the  co- 
lour back 


Act  IV]         DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  St 

Into  thy  cheek,  man,  nor  let  thy  weak  knees 
Knock  on  each  other  in  their  cowardice ! 
Time  files — be  brief— g-o  bring  my  horse  to  met 
Be  thou  as  swift  as  speech,  or  as  my  heart  is! 

Ziic.  My  lord, 

Damon.  Why,  slave,  dost  hear  me  ? 
My  horse,  I  say  !  The  hour  is  past  already 
"Whereon  I  bade  old  Neucles  summon  me. 

Liic.  My  .c^enerous  master,  do  not  slay  me  1 

Damon.  Slave  ! 
Art  mad  ?  or  dost  thou  mock  me  in  the  last 
And  fearfullest  extremity  ?-r-Yet  you  speak  not ! 

Luc.  You  were  ever  kind  and  merciful,  nor  yet 
Commended  me  unto  the  cruel  whip, 
And  I  did  love  you  for  it ! 

Damon.  Where's  my  steed  ? 

Luc.  When  I  beheld  the  means  of  saving"  you 
I  could  not  hold  my  hand — my  heart  was  in  it. 
And  in  my  heart,  the  hope  of  giving  life 
And  liberty  to  Damon;  and 

Damon.  Go  on  ! 
T  am  listening  to  thee  ! 

Lite.  And  in  hope  to  save  you, 
I  slew  your  steed  ! 

Damon.  Almighty  heavens! 

Luc.  Forgive  me  ! 

Damon.  1  am  standinghere  to  see  if'the  great  gods 
Will  with  their  lightning  execute  my  prayer 
Upon  thee  !     But  thy  punishment  be  mine  ! 
I'll  tear  thee  into  pieces !  (seizes  him.) 

Luc.  Spare  me  !  Spare  me  ! 
'Tis  horrible  to  die  ! — I  saved  thy  life, — O  do  not  thou 
take  mine  ! 

Damon.  My  friend !  my  friend !  O  that  the  word 
would  kill  thee  ! 
Pythias  is  slain  ! — his  blood  is  on  my  soul  ! 
He  cries,  where  art  thou,  Damon  ?  Damon,  where 

art  thou  ? 
And  Damon's  here  ! — The  axe  is  o'er  bis  neck,— 
And  in  his  blood  I'm  delug'd  ! 

Luc.  Spare  me  •'  Spare  me  ! 


52  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.         [Act  IV 

Damon.  A  spirit  cries,  'Revenge  and  sacrifice!' 
I'll  do  it— I'll  do  it— Come— 

Luc.  Where  should  I  go  ? 

Damon.  To  the  eternal  river  of  the  dead  ! 
The  way  is  shorter  than  to  Syracuse, — 
'Tis  only  far  as  yonder  yawning  gulf— 
I'll  throw  thee  with  one  swing  to  Tartarus, 
And  follow  after  thee  ! — Nay,  slave,  no  struggling  ! 
Pythias  is  grown  impatient !  His  red  ghost 
Starts  from  the  ground,  and  with  a  bloody  hand 
Waves  to  the  precipice  ! 

Luc.  Have  mercy ! 

Damon.  Call 
For  mercy  on  the  Furies — not  on  me ! 

[Exit  Damojit  dragging  Lucullus  out. 


ACT  V. 

Scene  I. — A  public  Place  in  Syracuse. — A  Scaffold^ 
toith  steps  ascending  to  it,  upon  the  right  hand — In 
the  back  of  the  Stage,  the  Gates  of  a  prison. — Exe- 
cutioner,  -with  an  Axe^  and  Guards  discovered. 

Enter  Damocles  and  Pkocles. 

Proc.  It  is  a  marvellous  fantasy,  thou  speakest  of 
In  Dionysius. 

Dam.  Yes,  his  mind  is  made 
Of  strange  materials,  that  are  almost  cast 
Jn  contrariety  to  one  another. 
The  school  and  camp  in  his  ambition  make 
A  strange  division  :  with  the  trumpet's  call, 
He  blends  the  languor  of  the  poet's  lyre  ! 
The  fierce  intrepid  captain  of  the  field 
Hath  often  on  the  great  Athenian  stage 
Cop'd  with  the  mightiest  monarchs  of  the  Muse, 
And  in  mine  apprehension,  he  doth  prize 
The  applauses  of  that  polished  populace 
More  than  the  rising  shout  of  victory. 


ActV]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  S3 

Proc.  And  over  all,  that  science  which  doth  hold 
Touching"  the  soul  and  its  affections, 
Its  high  discoursing-  hath  attracted  him. 
It  is  his  creed  that  in  this  flesh  of  ours 
Self  ever  entertains  predominance, 
And  to  all  friendsiiip  he  hath  ever  been 
A  persevering  infidel.     For  this, 
Belike,  he  tries  a  strange  experiment. 
"What  sayest  thou  ?     Will  Damon  come  again  ? 
It  urges  on  the  crisis  of  the  danger. 

JDam.  Our  love  of  life  is  in  the  very  instinct 
Of  mere  material  action  !  when  we  do 
Even  so  slight  a  thing,  as  wink  an  eye 
Against  the  wind.     Place  me  a  soulless  dog 
Upon  the  bare  edge  of  a  height,  and  he 
Shall  shudder  and  shrink  back,  though  none  have 

prov'd 
To  his  capacity  that  the  fall  were  dangerous. 
I  hold  the  thing  impossible. 

Proc.  He'll  not  ? 

Dam.   What,  when  he  feels  his  pent-up  soul  abroad. 
His  limbs  unfetter'd,  and  the  mountain-breeze 
Of  liberty  all  around  him,  and  his  life 
Or  death  upon  his  own  free  choice  dependent  ? 
^ Tis  visionary  ! 

Proc.  But  is  there  no  hope 
Of  Dionysius*  mercy  ? 

Dam.  He'll  not  give 
A  second's  hundredth  part  to  take  a  chance  in. 
His  indignation  swells  at  such  a  rashness. 
That  in  its  fling  of  proud  philosophy 
Can  make  him  feel  so  much  out-soar'd  and  humbled. 
What  a  vast  multitude  upon  the  hills 
Stretch  their  long  blackening  outline  in  the  round 
Of  the  blue  heavens  ! 

Proc.  They  wait  the  great  event. 
Mute  expectation  spreads  its  anxious  hush 
O'er  the  wide  city,  that  as  silent  stands 
As  its  reflection  in  the  quiet  sea. 
Behold  upon  the  roof  what  thousands  gaze 
Toward  the  distant  road  that  leads  to  Syracuse! 
z2 


54  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [ActV 

An  hour  ago  a  noise  was  heard  afar, 
Like  to  the  pulses  of  the  restless  surge ; 
But  as  the  time  approaches,  all  grows  still 
As  the  wide  dead  of  midnight ! 

Calanthe.  {Without.)  There's  no  power 
Shall  stay  me  back  !  I  must  behold  him  die, 
Then  follow  him ! 

Enter  Ca^la:stb^,  folloived  by  Arria. 

Arria.  My  child ! 

Cal.  I  cannot  hear  thee  ! 
The  shrieking  of  the  Furies  drowns  thy  cries! 

Arria.  This  is  no  place  for  thee — no  place,.  Calan- 
the, 
For  such  a  one  as  thou  ! 

Cal.  No  other  place 
Is  fit  for  such  a  wretch  !     I  am  his  wife 
Betrothed,  though  not  married.     There  is  no  place 
For  me  but  at  his  side  :  In  life  or  death 
There  is  no  other. 

There  is  the  scaffold  with  the  block  on  it ! 
There  is  the — O,  good  gods! 

Araia.  Come  back,  my  child ! 
Good  Damocles,  give  me  your  aid  to  bear 
This  wretched  woman  hence. 

Cal.  O,  mother,  mother, 
I'll  not  be  grudg'd  that  horrible  delight ! 
I'll  take  &  long  and  maddening  look  of  him, 
Whom  in  the  morning  I  thought  I  should  have  wait- 
ed, 
Blushing  within  the  chamber  of  a  bride, 
And  with  a  heart  all  full  of  love  and  fear. 
Now  I  await  him  in  a  different  place. 
And  with  a  cheek  that  ne'er  shall  blush  again  ; 
Whose  marble  may  be  spotted  o'er  with  blood. 
But  not  with  modesty :  love  yet  remains. 
But  fear  its  old  companion's  fled  away, 
And  made  room  for  despair  I 

Enter  Dionysius,  still  in  disguise. 

Ha  !  are  you  come  ? 


Act  V]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  55 

'Twas  you  that  brought  it  to  me  for  a  guest, 
And  froze  the  running-  currents  in  my  bosom 
To  one  deep  cake  of  ice  !  You  said  too  well 
That  Damon  would  not  come — The  selfish  traitor ! 
The  traitor  Damon ! 

Dion.  Hark  thee,  Calanthe  I 
It  was  an  idle  tale  I  told  to  thee  ! 

Cal.  Ha  ! 

Jjion.  A  mere  coinage,  an  invention. 

Cal.  I  do  not  ask  thee  why  that  tale  was  fram'd,— 
Tram'd  in  thy  cold  deliberate  cruelty — 
But  only  this — one  question  : — May  he  yet — 
May  Damon  yet  return  ? 

JDion.  He  may— he  is 
As  free  to  come,  or  stay,  as  are  the  winds. 

Cal.  And  Dionysius  withholds  hira  not  ? 

Dion.  He  does  not. 

Cal.  Whatsoe'er  thou  art,  the  gods 
Tor  that  one  word,  be  unto  thee  and  thine 
Guardians  for  ever  !— O,  that  ray  of  hope 
That  breaks  upon  my  soul,  is  worth  a  flood 
Of  the  sweet  day-light  of  Elysium  ! 
Damon  may  yet  return ! — But,  powers  of  Heaven  ! 
Death  is  prepared  already  ! — What  is  the  time  ! 

Dion.  Thou  may'st  perceive  by  yonder  dial-plate 
Against  the  temple,  six  poor  minutes  only 
Are  left  for  his  return. 

Cal.  And  yet  he  comes  not ! 
O  but  that  temple,  where  the  shade  of  time 
Moves  unrelentingly,  is  dedicate 
To  the  great  goddess  of  Fidelity — 
She  will  not  in  the  face  of  her  high  fane 
Let  such  a  profanation  hurl  for  ever 
The  altars  of  her  worship  to  the  ground  ; 
For  who  will  offer  incense  to  her  name 
If  Damon's  false  to  Pythias  ?     Ha  !  they  unbar 
The  ponderous  gates  !— There  is  a  clank  of  chams  ! 
They  are  leading  him  to  death  I 

Dam.  Bring  forth  the  prisoner  ■' 


56  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [ActV 

The  gates  of  the  Prison  are  fiung  open,  and  Ptthias 
is  discovered, — He  advances. 

Cal.  Pythias  ! 

Fifth.  Calanthe  here  ! — My  poor  fond  girl  I 
Thou  art  the  first  to  meet  me  at  the  block. 
Thou  wilt  be  the  last  to  leave  me  at  the  grave  1 
How  strangely  things  go  on  in  this  bad  world — 
This  was  my  wedding  day  ;  but  for  the  bride, 
I  did  not  think  of  such  a  one  as  death  ! 
I  deemed  I  should  have  gone  to  sleep  to-night, 
This  very  night — not  on  the  earth's  cold  lap. 
But,  with  as  soft  a  bosom  for  my  pillow, 
And  with  as  true  and  fond  a  heart-throii  in  it 
To  lull  me  to  my  slumber,  as  e'er  yet 
Couch'd  the  repose  of  love. — It  was,  indeed, 
A  blissful  sleep  to  wish  for  ! 

Cal.   O,  my  Pythias, 
He  yet  may  come  ! 

Pyth.  Calanthe,  no ! — Remember 
That  Dionysius  hath  prevented  it. 

Cal.  That  was  an  idle  tale  of  this  old  man, 
And  he  may  yet  return  ! 

Pyth.  May  yet  return  ! 
Speak ! — how  is  this  ?  return  ! — O  life,  how  strong 
Thy  love  is  in  the  hearts  of  dying  men ! 
Thou  art  he  did'st  say  the  tyrant  would  prevent 
His  coming  back  to  Syracuse. 

Dion.  I  wrong'd  him. 

Pyth.  Ha  !  were  it  possible  ! — may  he  yet  come  ? 

Cat.  Into  the  sinews  of  the  horse  that  bears  him 
Put  swiftness,  gods  ! — let  him  outrace  and  shame 
The  galloping  of  clouds  upon  the  storm  ! 
Blow  breezes  with  him  ;  lend  every  feeble  aid 
Unto  his  motion  ! — and  thou,  thrice-solid  earth, 
Forget  thy  immutable  fixedness— become  .0tk 

Under  his  feet  like  flowing  water,  and  lit 

Hither  flow  with  him  !  ^ 

Pyth.  I  have  taken  in 
All  the  horizon's  vast  circumference 
That  in  the  glory  of  the  setting  sun 


ActV]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  67 

Opens  its  wide  expanse,  yet  do  I  see 

No  signal  of  his  coming! — Nay,  'tis  likely — 

O,  no — he  could  not !  It  is  impossible  I 

Cal.  I  say,  he  is  false !  he  is  a  murderer ! 
He  will  not  come  !  the  traitor  doth  prefer 
Life,  ignominious,  dastard  life ! — Thou  minister 
Of  light,  and  measurer  of  eternity 
In  this  great  purpose,  stay  thy  going  down, 
Great  sun,  behind  the  confines  of  the  world  ! 
On  yonder  purple  mountains  make  thy  stand ! 
For  while  thine  eye  is  opened  on  mankind, 
Hope  will  abide  within  thy  blessed  beams — 
They  dare  not  do  the  murder  in  thy  presence  ! 
Alas  !'all  heedless  of  my  frantic  cry. 
He  plunges  down  the  precipice  of  Heaven  ! 
Tythias—  O,  Pythias  ! 

Fyth.  I  could  have  borne  to  die 
Unmov'd  by  Dionysius — but  to  be  torn 
Green  from  existence  by  the  friend  I  lov'd, — 
Thus  from  the  blossoming  and  beauteous  tree 
Rent  by  the  treachery  of  him  I  trusted ! — 
No  !  no  !  I  wrong  thee,  Damon,  by  that  half  thought, 
Shame  on  the  foul  suspicion  !  he  hath  a  wife. 
And  child,  who  cannot  live  on  earth  without  himj 
And  heaven  has  flung  some  obstacle  in  his  way 
To  keep  him  back,  and  lets  me  die  who  am 
Less  worthy,  and  the  fitter. 

Proc.  Pythias,  advance ! 

Cal.  No,  no  !  why  should  he  yet  ?    It  is  not  yet- 
By  all  the  gods,  there  are  two  minutes  only  ! 

Proc.  Take  a  last  farewell  of  your  mistress,  sir. 
And  look  your  last  upon  the  setting  sun — 
And  do  both  quickly,  for  your  hour  comes  on  ! 

Fyth.  Come  here,  Calanthe  !  closer  to  me  yet  !~ 
Ah  !  what  a  cold  transition  it  will  be 
From  this  warm  touch  all  full  of  life  and  beauty, 
Unto  the  clammy  mould  of  the  deep  grave  ! 
i  pr'ythee,  my  Calanthe,  when  I  am  gone. 
If  thou  should'st  e*er  behold  my  hapless  friend. 
Do  not  upbraid  him  !  This,  my  lovely  one, 
Js  my  last  wish — Remember  it ! 


58  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  V 

Cal.     (PFhOf  during'  this  speech,  has  been  looking 
loildly  toioards  the  side  of  the  stage.) 
Hush!  Hush! 
Stand  back  there ! 

Pyth.  Take  her,  you  eternal  gods, 
Out  of  my  arms  into  your  own  ! — Befriend  her! 
And  let  her  life  glide  on  in  gentleness, 
For  she  is  gentle,  and  doth  merit  it. 

Cal.  I  think  I  see  it 

Proc.  Lead  her  from  the  scaflTold  ! 

Pyth.  Arria,  receive  her! — yet  one  kiss— farewell! 
Thrice — thrice — farewell ! — I  am  ready,  sir. 

Cal.  Forbear ! 
There  is  a  minute  left — look  there !  look  there  ! 
But  'tis  so  far  off,  and  the  evening  shades 
Thicken  so  fast,  there  are  no  other  eyes 
But  mine  can  catch  it — Yet,  'lis  there  !  I  see  it— 
A  shape  as  yet  so  vague  and  questionable 
'Tis  nothing,  just  about  to  change  and  take 
The  faintest  form  of  something  ! 

Pyth.  Sweetest  love  ! 

I>am.  Your  duly,  officer. 

Cal.  I  will  not  quit  him 
Until  ye  prove  I  see  it  not ! — no  force 
Till  then  shall  separate  us. 

Dam.  Tear  them  asunder  ? 
Arria,  conduct  your  daughter  to  her  home. 

Cal.  O,  send  me  not  away — Pythias,  thine  arms — 

Stretch  out  thine  arms,  and  keep  me! — see,  it  comes! 

Barbarians  ! — Murderers  ! — O,  yet  a  moment — 

Yet  but  one  pulse — one  heave  of  breath!  (),  heavens! 

[_She  siooons,  and  is  carried  away  by  Arria  and 

Guards. 

Pyth.  {To  the  Execuiioner) 
There  is  no  pang  in  thy  deep  wedge  of  steel 
After  that  parting. — Nay,  sir,  you  may  spare 
Yourself  the  pains  to  fit  me  for  the  block. — 

[Drawing  the  lining  of  his  tunic  lower. 
Damon,  I  do  forgive  thee  ! — I  but  ask 
Some  tears  unto  my  ashes  ! — 

[A  shout  is  heard — Pythias  leaps  up  on  the  scaffold. 


Act  V]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  59 

JBy  the  gods, 

A  horse,  and  horseman  ! — Far  upon  the  hill 

They  wave  their  hats,  and  he  returns  it — yet 

I  know  him  not— his  horse  is  at  the  stretch.  (.5  shout) 

Why  should  ihey  shout  as  he  comes  on  ?  It  is 

No  ! — that  was  too  unlike— but  there  now — there  ! 

O,  life,  I  scarcely  dare  to  wish  for  thee, 

And  yet — that  jutting  rock  has  hid  him  fi-om  me— 

No  ! — let  it  not  be  Damon  ! — lie  has  a  wife 

And  child  ! — gods  !  keep  him  buck  ! 

Damon  (IVil/iOiii)   Where  is  he  ? 
I  fie  rushes  in,  and  stands  for  a  moment^  looking  round. 
Ha! 
He  is  alive  !  untouched  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 

[Falls  -loith  an  hysterical  laugh  tipon  the  scaffold, 
(^Loud  shouls  tviihout.) 

Pyth.   The  gods  lio  know  I  could  have  died  for  him! 
And  yet  I  dared  to  doubt  ! — I  dared  to  breathe 
The  haU-utler'd  blasphemy  ! 

(Damon  is  raised  up.) 
He  faints  !— H%v  thick 

This  wreath  of  burning  moisture  on  his  brow  ! 
His  face  is  black  witli  toil,  liis  swelling  bulk 
Heaves  with  swift  paiitings — Damon,  my  clear  friend! 

Damon.  Where  am  I  ?  Have  I  fallen  from  my  horse. 
That  I  am  stunn'd,  and  on  my  head  1  feel 
A  weight  of  thickening  blood!  — What  has  befallen 

me  ? 
The  horrible  confusion  of  a  dream 
Is  yet  upon  my  sight. — For  mercy's  sake^ 
Stay  me  not  back — he  is  about  to  die  ! 
Pythias,  my  friend  !  — Unlo(;se  me,  villains,  or 
You  will  find  the  might  of  madness  in  mine  arm.' 
{Sees  Pyih.)  Speak  to  me,  let  me  hear  thy  voice  ! 

J^yih.  My  friend  ! 

Damon.  It  pierc'd  my  brain,  and  rush'd  into  my 
heart ! 
There's  lightning  in  it ! — That's  the  scaffold— there 
The  block — the  axe — the  executioner  ! 
And  here  he  lives! — I  have  him  in  my  soul ! 
{Embracea  Pythias.)  Ha!  ha!  ha! 


60  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [ActV 

Pyth.  Damon  ! 

Damon.  Ha  !  ha  ! 
I  can  but  laugh  1 — I  cannot  speak  to  thee  ! 
I  can  but  play  the  maniac,  and  laugh  ! 

Thy  hand  ! — O,  let  me  grasp  thy  manly  hand !- 

It  is  an  honest  one,  and  so  is  mine  ! 

They  are  fit  to  clasp  each  other  !     Ha  !  ha !  ha  ! 

Pyth.  Would  that  my  death  could  have  preserv'd 
thee  ! 

Damon.  Pythias, 
Even  in  the  very  crisis  to  have  come,-— 
To  have  hit  the  very  forehead  of  old  time ! 
By  heavens  !  had  I  arrived  an  hour  before, 
I  should  not  feel  this  agony  of  joy, — 
This  triumph  over  Dionysius  ! 
Ha !  ha ! — But  did'st  thou  doubt  me  ?  Come,  thou 

did'st— 
Own  it,  and  I'll  forgive. 

Pyth.  For  a  moment. 

Damon.  O  that  false  slave  ! — Pythias,  he  slew  my 
horse,  0 

In  the  base  thought  to  save  me !  I  would  have  kill'd 

him. 
And  to  a  precipice  was  dragging  him, 
When  from  the  very  brink  of  the  abyss 
I  did  behold  a  traveller  afar, 
Bestriding  a  good  »teed — I  rush'd  upon  him  ; 
Choking  with  desperation,  and  yet  loud 
In  shrieking  anguish,  I  commanded  him 
Down  from  his  saddle  :  he  denied  me — but 
Would  I  then  be  denied  ?  as  hungry  tigers 
Clutch  their  poor  prey,  I  sprung  upon  his  throat. 
Thus,  thus  I  had  him,  Pythias ! 

Dion,  {advancing.)  Damon ! 

Damon.  I  am  here  upon  the  scaffold ;  look  at  me  : 
I  am  standing  on  my  throne  ;  as  proud  a  one 
As  yon  illumin'd  mountain,  where  the  sun 
Makes  his  last  stand  :  let  him  look  on  me  too ; 
He  never  did  behold  a  spectacle 
More  full  of  natural  glory.     Death  is — Ha  ! 
All  Syracuse  starts  up  upon  her  hills, 


ActVj  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  61 

And  lifts  her  hundred  thousand  hands.    She  shouts. 
Hark,  how  she  shouts !    (shouts  heard.)  O,  Dionysius, 
When  wert  thou  in  thy  life  hail'd  with  a  peal 
Of  hearts  and  hands  like  that  one  ?    Shout  again ! 
'Again,  until  the  mountains  echo  you, 
And  the  great  sea  joins  in  that  mighty  voice, 
^^  And  old  Enceladus,  the  son  of  earth, 
'    Stirs  in  his  mighty  caverns.     Tell  me,  slaves, 
^  Where  is  your  tyrant !     Let  me  see  him  now  ; 
^  Why  stands  he  hence  aloof?  Where  is  your  master? 
^    What  is  become  of  Dionysius  ? 
'^  I  would  behold,  and  laugh  at  him. 

(DioNTSius  advances  bcttveen  Damon  and  Py- 
thias,— Damon  being  on  the  scaffold, — and 
throws  off  his  disguise.) 
Dion.  Behold  me. 
Damon  and Pyth.  How? 
Dion.  Stay  your  admiration  for  awhile. 
Till  I  have  spoken  my  commandment  here. 
Go,  Damocles,  ai^  bid  a  herald  cry 
Wide  through  the  city,  from  the  eastern  gato 
Unto  tlie  most  remote  extremity, 
That  Dionysius,  tyrant  as  he  is. 
Gives  back  his  life  to  Damon.  [s^it  Damoclete 

Pyth.  How,  Dionysius  ? 
Speak  that  again. 
Dion.  I  pardon  him. 
^.  ,  Pyth.  O,  gods ! 

You  give  his  life  to  Damon  ? 
Dion.  Life  and  freedom. 
Damon  remains  mute  -with  astonishment  upon  the 

scaffold.) 
Pyth.  O,  Dionysius !    O,  my  sovereign  !    Life 
And  freedom  !   Let  me  fall  down  at  your  feet. 
And  open  all  the  sluices  of  my  heart 
In  one  wild  gush  of  weeping  gratitude ! 
O,  Damon  !    (Damon  continues  motionless,) 

Dion.  Almighty  virtue, 
Now  do  I  own  and  worship  thee.    I  see 
The  glorious  spark  which  the  Eternal  one 
Struck  from  himself  into  tho  soul  of  roan. 
P 


62  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  [Act  V 

Blaze  up  Into  such  excelling  majesty. 
It  awes,  while  it  illumes  my  heart.     What  hoa  ! 
How,  Damon,  is  it  with  thee?     Come,  descend : 
Let  me  conduct  thee  from  this  place  of  death. 
Into  the  bosom  of  your  friend. 

Pyth.  O,  Damon  ! 

Bamon.  Pythias — good  Dionysius — no,  I  cannot ;     , 
Lend  me  your  hand,  good  Pythias — I  could  weep.      j 
{they  take  each  other's  handsy  and  remain  looking  av\ 
each  other.) 

Dion.  Until  this  wond'roushourl  walk'd  in  error. 
And  liv'd  in  darkness.    Either  my  heart  was  born 
Blind  to  the  light  of  virtue,  or  some  film 
Hath  crept  upon  its  fine  susceptibility. 
Pythias,  'twas  I  that  visited  your  dungeon, 
To  put  youmaith  unto  the  test ;  and  one  thing 
Hath  griev'd  me  in  its  issue — your  old  father — 

I'yth.  He  is  dead  ? 

Dio7i.  The  shock  was  terrible. 

Pyth.  The  earth 
Lie  lightly  on  his  bosom. 

Dio7i,  But  here  is 
The  loveliest  face  that  ever  yet  was  worn 
By  consolation. 

Enter  Calahthb. 

Cat.  O,  my  Pythias  I 

Pyth.  Calanthe  ! 

CaL  My  dear  husband! 

Pyth.  Thou  hast  heard  all  ? 

Cal.  Yes — through  the  city  a  loud  voice  goes  forth» 
Of  gratitude,  and  piety,  and  exultation. 

Daman.  Pythias  !    O,  Dionysius  !  I  did  not 
In  the  wild  wonder  of  recover'd  life 
Appreciate  the  blessing  ;  but  it  rushes 
Now  full  and  deep  in  one  wide  gush  of  joys 
Bursts  in  one  tide  of  exultation. 
Oh,  Pythias  !  the  thought 
Of  Hermion  is  at  my  heart,  and  I 
Cannot  hold  back  these  tears. 

Dien.  Damon  and  Pvthias, 


i 


Act  V]  DAMON  AND  PYTHIAS.  (53 

You  have  rewarded  me  :  I  now  begin 

To  taste  of  pleasures  never  touch'd  before. 

Perfect  the  work  you  have  begun, 

And  I  myself,  by  the  continued  light 

Of  your  example,  may  at  last  essay 

To  tread  such  wond'rous  ways  of  virtue  with  you. 


fthe  curtain  falla.J 


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